


Empty Sky Between Us

by i_said_goddameron



Series: Empty Sky Between Us [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Poe Dameron (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Angsty and Emotional Sex, Dameron-Bey Family Flashbacks, Drama & Romance, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/M, Fertility Issues, Heavy Angst, Latinidad, PTSD and Grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-03 15:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 103,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14571894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_said_goddameron/pseuds/i_said_goddameron
Summary: Charismatic Cuban-American Poe Dameron is an Air Force serviceman awaiting his shot at flight school. Before he leaves to pursue his dream and honor his family’s legacy, he falls for a bright biochemistry undergrad. Will their love be able to span the distance?A heartbreaking and erotic love story about separation, ambition and connection.* NSFW marked in the chapter titles. *





	1. Waxed Mustache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe Dameron doesn’t date, not when he’s waiting his orders for flight school. When you meet, he decides to give it a shot, despite what logic tells him. 
> 
> During your first date, he comes up with a little game to try and prove that he’s not so easy to stereotype. And he realizes he’s smitten. Shit.

 

The night you met him, Poe stood with a confidence that convinced you he was four inches taller than is actual height, although he was so warm and likable, a ruler would probably just give him credit for the rest. The illusion was so convincing in fact, you checked your own height against other people in the room to make sure you weren’t imagining how short he was standing next to them.

Droplets of rain clung to his hair and shoulders as he sat in a booth of a strip mall Thai restaurant, trying to remind himself that he was smarter than this. An undeniable magnetism existed between you, revealing itself in the little things like heat infusing his cheeks when you touched and the way he as hyperaware of your smile slowly pulling upward when he’d say your name. It wasn’t wise to pursue you seriously, not when he was so close to finally being accepted in the Undergraduate Pilot Training. A lifelong dream of flight kept him in blinders. Yes, Poe cared deeply for his family and his friends but he didn’t go looking for a relationship.

In fact, when he met you he kicked himself as his thoughts spun out of control.

He had the propensity to grow listless like a dog pacing endlessly, wearing a circle into the floor of a kennel. Poe Dameron wasn’t a creature meant to be confined, nor was he designed for his feet to stay on the ground. This was a man who was built for the sky in fact, although as far as personality went, a dog suited him better than a bird. Intelligent, affectionate, hard working. Poe had that second-generation itch, that headstrong need to validate himself through stubborn work ethic, to make his mark.

Ever since he was 6, he’d known that mark would be in the form of a white contrail stretching across the sky.

For some time, he’d been putting off dating, at least with any somewhat serious intention, just waiting for his orders to report to a training base. Little sense in establishing something with potential if he was about to be uprooted and dropped into a cockpit anywhere on the map.

Poe liked you from the first meeting, though. Liked the way your voice lilted when talking about movies that always made you laugh, liked the way your eyes rested on his olive forearms when he pushed up his sleeves. When you lingered in a goodbye hug at the end of the night for a second longer than customary for a first touch with an acquaintance, he mentally threw that caution out and asked for your number right then. Poe had been pacing, waiting for his chance for so long that he found himself giving in, improvising instead of sticking to that same worn path.

Although you’d been exchanging texts and calls for weeks, so far you had only seen each other a few times in group settings. Each time was punctuated by soft moments, like Poe’s lingering touch on your arm when you accompanied Rey to a dive bar art show, or the sideways glances he would steal as Finn told stories about going to karaoke nights when they first became roommates. Tonight was your first night without the buffer of company, and Poe gnawed on the inside of his cheek waiting for you to finish up in the bathroom so he could see exactly how much damage being caught in the sudden downpour had wrecked.

After he realized that pulling into a parking spot during a downpour was rude, Poe insisted on pulling up to the curb to let you out right in front of the restaurant, but you were stubborn. Poe finally acquiesced when you threw the door of his Civic open in the pouring rain- as he was reversing, no less- and sprinted for the front door.

Preternatural sense of confidence faltering tonight, he blamed nerves for the oversight of parking the car instead of dropping you off. Studying the wooden interior of the small restaurant, mirroring traditional Thai architecture, Poe contemplated ordering a couple drinks to smooth things out. Overthinking and deciding it would be presumptuous, he instead looked over the menu as his leg bounced under the booth, anxiously waiting for you to finish up.

Hair clung to your forehead and shoulders when you finally emerged from the bathroom. To make matters worse, the air conditioning continued to blow, making it absolutely freezing in the restaurant now that you were in dripping wet clothes. Somehow it felt even colder in contrast to the tropical balminess of that rain-soaked parking lot. Poe winced internally as you walked toward him, arms were folded across your chest as you ran your hands along your biceps to warm yourself. The body language read as defensive, annoyed even.

Poe sighed, “I’m so sorry. I just blanked and started to park… I didn’t even realize—“ rubbing his thumbs along the menu awkwardly. His deep-set, hickory eyes darted away from your own and you could tell he felt responsible for your miserable condition, even though he had tried to correct his mistake immediately.

“What? No, it’s alright. I’m sorry, that was… ridiculous of me. I’m hungry. Let’s just eat, “ you replied nonchalantly as you slid into the dimly-lit booth.

Poe’s brow furrowed as he detected a small tremor in your hand when you reached for a menu. “But you’re freezing. Finn is staying with Rose tonight- Let’s get this to go.”

  
——-

  
“Oh. You’re right, that Panang is amazing,” Poe shifted on the throw pillow. A single tea light candle flickered between three white styrofoam containers on the coffee table while an Indie playlist shuffled through his iPhone. Woefully unprepared as he was to have you over, he was trying to be romantic.

Stacking slices of onion on one side of his plate with chopsticks, he could feel your eyes pausing over his mouth and hands as he ate his noodles. Each time stirred a jolt of anticipation within his chest, although that kind of attention wasn’t an unusual occurrence for him. Poe was distractingly attractive with a square jawline dusted with a five o’clock shadow, and expressive, thick eye brows. He’d had changed out of his saturated button-down into a black tee when you had arrived at the modest duplex he shared with Finn, the curls of his hair tightening since you both ran through the rain a second time. He returned the same lingering gaze to you from across the coffee table, taking in the delicate features of your face.

Unable to wring all the water out of your soaked hair, moisture darkened the area around your shoulders. Roughly 20 minutes into what was supposed to be your first proper date, it was strangely familiar to be wearing his clothes, but Poe insisted, handing you a navy blue v-neck as soon as you arrived. Your own shirt tumbled in the dryer.

“We didn’t have to sit on the floor like this,” you apologized between sips of wine to calm your nerves. It was nothing fancy, but you were grateful he’d stopped by the store for it on the way back to his place.

“Nah. It’s cool… it’s culturally appropriate,” he answered as he plucked the last bite of Pad Kee Mao from the takeout container. “I used to eat a bit of Thai when I was stationed in Guam. Between this and the Chamorro food, I was drowning in coconut milk.”

“When did you join the service?”

“When I was 18, soon as I could. The Air Force is a tradition in my family. My mom was a cargo pilot, dad was Special Forces. Even my aunt was Intelligence. Flying is all I’ve ever really wanted to do.” Poe cleared his throat and drew a sip of wine from his glass. “And you? Have you always wanted to work in a lab?”

Tucking hair behind your ear, you explained that the biochemistry Master’s degree you were working toward was to meet a goal you made in high school. You had always wanted to become a quiet force for good in a chaotic world. Working on a pharmaceutical development team was the best application you could think of for your talents. “I just want to do something important, you know?”

Poe nodded. The Air Force, though maddening at times, was that for Poe. He imagined you in a white coat with a pair of oversized goggles, poring over notes. Chipping away at a cure for diabetes or treatment for Alzheimer’s. He knew this was an idealized, stockphoto version of what must be very tedious work, but he still smiled at the mental picture. “Yeah, I do. I can’t imagine working a regular job, it would probably make me neurotic.”

”Same here. I mean, the bookstore is fine ‘til I finish my thesis, I’m not complaining. And it’s nice to work with Rey, she’s fun. But if I can’t do something meaningful with my life...” 

“An idealist.”

”A realist,” you countered. “I know I can’t spin my wheels too long without becoming miserable.”

Poe could relate to that statement more than you realized, and it dawned on him that it was probably the basis for your compatibility. For the first time in years, he saw a glimmer of potential past a handful of dates. No one seemed to understand Poe’s commitment, but maybe you could. 

A white and red Jack Russell Terrier named B.B. shifted from the couch, his little furry body curled into a U shape. Occasionally, Poe would watch his leg twitch in his sleep and get this tender look. It was really endearing to see him love on his dog, even when B.B. wasn’t awake to reciprocate.

“Are you gonna get a shot at the pilot school?” you asked, “I remember you mentioning it when we went to that place downtown.”

Although he passed all the exams perfectly, Poe had been on the waiting list for the flight training program for longer than he cared to think about, a stubborn boy holding onto a balloon string that kept lifting him higher and higher when anyone else would’ve let go and dropped back to Earth long ago. It was tenacity and intelligence that kept his hand gripping that string since his childhood, but now that he’d nearly rounded out his twenties his patience was growing thinner than the worn threads.

Mouth crumpled a little around the edges, he replied, “Unfortunately, there’s a shortage on developmental engineers and a long list of people who want to become pilots. So for now, they’re keeping me put at MacDill.”

“That doesn’t really seem fair. Doesn’t it make sense to train a new engineer, if you’re a good candidate for the program?”

“It’s just a matter of time. I passed Initial Flight Training with flying colors… no pun intended.”

Poe shrugged. You tossed your head to move a ribbon of hair from your field of vision, squinting at your raven-haired date from across the coffee table. This man was an eternal optimist.

“No pun intended, huh?”

-——

Rows of shelves lined the living room, mostly holding records but some other mementos were tucked in. In a thin silver frame sat a photo of a curly haired woman squinting against the sun in a flight suit, backed by a Boeing C-17. Her arm looped around a young boy wearing a pair of white sneakers that appeared to be two sizes too big and a huge grin. Little Poe and his mom. Another shelf held a group photo of Poe’s friends, including your mutual friend Rey who insisted you meet him, dressed in matching orange shirts and making goofy faces at a charity 5k. Poe watched as you lifted yourself up from your cushion on the floor and inspected it with an amused expression.

When you stood close to read the titles in the dim light, you could faintly smell their mix of old paper and vinyl. His collection was mostly vintage rock, with some Cuban jazz, folk and other wildcards mixed in.

“You’re like one waxed mustache away from being a full-blown hipster, aren’t you?” you teased, running your hands along the spines of his records.

Poe’s brows pinched together in thought. “Can you even be a hipster if you’re military?”

“Congratulations, you found a way.”

“My dad. He was a big collector.” Poe stood next to you, adding “About half of these were his. I just couldn’t get rid of everything after losing him, so I started adding my own.”

Poe watched your fingers retreat from the spines and curl back into your palm as the sentimentality of his explaination struck you. He could tell you felt dash of regret at your previous comment, and began to speak again but found himself at a loss. Your eyes scanned over the bookcase and he sighed.

As much as he joked when you met, he was genuinely sweet. You’d been rambling on about your latest pathology test earlier over dinner, and although he had no idea what you were talking about, he was fascinated. Moreso fascinated by your ambition, by your desire to do something grand and important in life. Poe understood that, and it made sense to him why your energy resonated in his mind after you met.

Biochemistry, he thought to himself, what a major. He tried to imagine you in the lab, doing whatever exactly it was that one does there. Poe realized he didn’t know much at all about your field- his own interest being mechanical and not organic- and listened intently when you spoke about your dreams of working on a research and development team.

“Hey. Since you have me all figured out, so let’s play a game,” he suggested with a devilish grin. Sliding a record out of the bookcase, he explained, “I pick the record and you tell me if I bought it or my dad did.”

Intrigued, you lifted a brow. “What do I get when I win?”

A dry laugh escaped Poe’s mouth and he took another sip from his glass. “ _When_.” He was definitely into your competitive spirit, because he had one to match. Between that and the ambition, he thought it was only a matter of time before he might do something foolish like enter into a bona-fide relationship. 

“You win a kiss, from the most handsome guy in the restaurant.” He theatrically gestured at the empty apartment. Poe possessed a unique magnetism, born of authenticity and ease. Charm, but not in a manipulative sense. Hearing him say it made a flush spread across your cheeks, and his mouth curled upward at the sight. He’d been imagining his lips against yours all night, and had been since the first night you met. 

“If I lose?”

“You will be forced to kiss… the most ugly guy in the restaurant.”

A black and white sleeve was held up for you to inspect. _Sandinista!_ was emblazoned in red over a photo of The Clash. “You. You’re definitely the type that would worship Joe Strummer.”

Exchanging it for another, Poe’s espresso eyes rolled. “Okay. So maybe you do have me pegged.”

The new one had a girl in bell bottoms clutching a stuffed toy over her bare chest. Serge Gainsbourg. Lighting up, you blurted, “I love this one! Especially the ballad. Your dad, right?”

Shaking his head, he slipped it out of the sleeve and loaded it onto the platter. He turned off the playlist that had been softly playing in the background and turned the volume up. Thumpy bass immediately filled the apartment. B.B. was slightly startled by the noise, and the little Jack Russell hopped off his spot on the couch and trotted off to Poe’s bedroom for a quieter place to sleep. Poe stepped closer, so close you could smell the warm notes of his cologne. Behind his sternum, his heart jumped at the close proximity.

A white record with an iconic banana was displayed in front of you. “You.”

His dark eyebrows raised and one side of his mouth drew up as he scoffed, “Wrong again”.

Stevie Nicks draped herself over Mick Fleetwood’s knee on the cover of Rumors. Another step closer, so close now he felt his body heat surge. Receptive, you responded by leaning in, the distance between you now mere inches. “Okay, but this one actually is from your dad.”

Poe shrugged to fake you out, then laughed. “Yeah. You’re right. I had to give you an easy one.”

A finger poised on the spine of the final record, Poe’s voice lowered as he warned, “It all comes down to this… the tie breaker.” He bit his lip slowly and locked eyes with you as he began to slip it out of the bookcase.

One cycle of breath went by. Two cycles.

Closer.  
The gap between you was charged with tension.  
Closer. Darkness as his eyes closed. 

Warm and soft, his lips pressed into yours with a tender sense of urgency. Every electron in his body seemed to dance as it soaked in the heat of your skin, guitar-calloused fingertips brushing against the creamy backs of your arms. Returning the enthusiasm, you deepened the kiss slowly. Tongues slipping against each other tentatively, Poe felt your pulse thumping under his palm as his hand slid up your neck.

Unhurried, Poe drew both his arms around your waist as you melted into him, savoring a first kiss that had been weeks in the making. Gradually, the touch became faint until he hovered over your parted lips. He took his first real breath in what felt like five minutes. Air. What was air again?

Letting out a barely-audible whimper from the broken contact as Poe ran his hand down your shoulder, your skin raised in goosebumps as his fingers skimmed the fabric of the shirt you borrowed. Opening his eyes slowly, Poe found you smiling, and he brushed his nose against yours gently before giving you another peck on your lips. Leaning in, his eyes crinkled as he drank in the sight of your face, bright with the exhilaration of the dizzying kiss. “Tough break, losing like that and having to kiss the ugliest hipster in this place.”

“I haven’t lost anything yet.”


	2. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Finn have a surprise to lift Poe’s spirits on a rough day.

Finn slid the box across the truck bed then he hopped out, lifting the tailgate behind him. Poe nodded and carried a large cardboard box toward the duplex. Poe split off for the master bedroom, and stacked the last of your belongings in the corner of the room you now shared.

“Okay, that’s the last one, now it’s official. You’re home,” Finn confirmed with a wide smile as he met you in the living room.

“Thanks for helping. I’m glad you’re okay with this,” you answered, bending down to pick up B.B.’s worn, favorite plush bear toy. Giving it a loss, you sent the little white dog scurrying across the tile, nails clicking in a flurry as he retrieved the bear with a loud squeak.

“Of course! You’ve been here so much lately you might as well bring the rest of your stuff.”

After 8 months of dating, Poe invited you to move in when it was time to renew the lease on your apartment. By that time, you’d been spending half the week at the duplex he shared with Finn, keeping a toothbrush and clothes there, and loading the dishwasher more often than either of the actual tenants. It was bewildering how natural it was. Over time, your belongings began to fill the duplex, books about anthropology and cellular evolution squeezing against the World War Two memoirs and equipment guides that used to slant on the shelf. Hanging plants and greenery trailed down from the ceiling and back up, infusing the space with life.

Poe hadn’t exactly been looking for a relationship when Rey brought you along to Finn’s birthday party, and he wasn’t the type to fall hard and fast but things between you progressed in a way that felt natural. He found that your lives enmeshed right away, spending more time together than apart.

After waiting a while for him to return, you walked to the bedroom to find Poe slumped on the bed, his gaze fixed on the triangular flag case on a shelf over his desk. B.B. sat unmoving on the floor, looking up at him with the slobbery bear still clenched in his jaw. Today was a happy milestone on a painful anniversary, since it marked another year without his father.

“What’s wrong? Are you having second thoughts?”

Immediately he lifted to his feet, lighting up in a bright smile again. “No, Corazón, of course not.”

Poe didn’t have second thoughts, on the contrary. He was ready to jump in with both feet, craving more and more of you as the relationship progressed. Cafe con leche on lazy mornings and late nights under the glow of your laptop screen punctuated the days you’d stay over. A rhythm emerged, an ease to domestic life that surprised him initially. Both of you wanted this, the relief of coming home to each other.

“It’s-“ Poe picked at his cuticles as his smile gradually faded. “It’s my dad’s… Well, what do you call it? Today is the day my dad died.”

Taking one of his hands in your own, you guided him to sit with you on the bed. B.B. hopped next to Poe, resting his nose across your boyfriend’s lap. Letting out a strained breath, he pulled himself together. Today wasn’t a day for grief, he thought to himself.

Before he could stop it, you pulled out an old album from the stack of books on the desk. Flipping pages, you compared Poe’s face to his father’s around the same age. Kes stood in combat uniform in the Polaroid, with arms crossed in front of his chest. They differed in small ways, like the son’s shorter, leaner build and in the eruption of curls that came from his mother’s end of the gene pool, but if he buzzed them off, the photo of Kes could easily pass for Poe with an Instagram filter.

Matching eyes, inviting and deep-set under thick brows.

Matching bone structure, with high cheekbones, prominent nose and a sharp, square jawline.

Poe had told you stories about Kes many times. He’d detailed how he was the kindest man Poe had ever known, tough as nails, with a strong sense of pride in his family’s heritage and a biting sense of humor. It was a shame you’d never gotten the chance to meet him.

The page turned and Poe’s eyes stopped on a picture of his parents together in front of a lake. Shara was an effortless beauty with a glamorous, open-mouthed laugh as a curtain of spiraled black hair fell in front of her face. A sharp cut bisected her right eyebrow, and she wore a striped tank top. Kes stood with his arm around her waist, stealing a sideways glimpse from the corner of his eye as a brow lifted in amusement.

“Do you believe in soul mates?”

For a moment, you hesitated answering his question. Poe was a romantic, much more so than you, and this was arguably the more significant day of your relationship thus far. You loved him, without a doubt. You loved the safety found in his arms, the intelligence behind his crinkled eyes, and the wit behind his megawatt smile. But this was a bit of a loaded question, all things considered. “I don’t know. I never really thought about it.”

“He did, my dad. He told me that my mom was the only one he was ever supposed to be with. That he wasn’t complete without her.”

Your fingers skimmed over your boyfriend’s, stopping to squeeze his hand. “What do you believe?”

“They really loved each other,” Poe noted as his fingertip grazed the edge of the photo through the clear plastic sheet. “So I guess I believe in true love, because of them.”

“But are people made for each other, meant for only one person?”

Poe hummed in thought, then turned to press a kiss to your temple, “I like to think so.”

After Shara died when Poe was eight, Kes never remarried. He wore his late wife’s wedding ring on a simple chain around his neck, and it traveled with him everywhere. Kosovo. Serbia. Some comfort was found in its familiar weight, and Kes explained to his son how important it was to have this reminder with him at all times during those dangerous missions- even when she wasn’t there to return home.

Their work split them apart, Shara navigating somewhere in the sky while Kes’s boots trudged through some of the most volatile conflict zones on Earth. A trust was there, a knowledge that one would always return to the other. While they weren’t always under the same roof, their son grew up seeing the spark they shared when they were together. When his wife had the aneurysm, it blew a hole right through Kes’s heart. The loss didn’t harden him exactly, but he did seal himself off romantically.

Now the thin golden loop rested against the soft indentation just under Poe’s throat. The intention was to keep it with him, a small piece of her cradled close, but over time that intention blurred into something else. Poe realized didn’t want to keep it; he wanted to offer it. As time went on he recognized bits of them within the relationship you shared. Playful teasing, lingering touches, comfortable silences. He saw a reflection of them, in the best way. They loved each other with a fierce loyalty in the same way he loved you. It was just a matter of time before he’d present his mother’s ring to you.

“They sound like really incredible people.”

“They were,” he answered softly. It was a wound that never quite healed, a scab that could be picked off with little effort despite the time passed. Family.

Swiftly, an idea gripped your thoughts, a small thing to lift his spirits.

“Hey, before we can relax, there’s still one more thing,” you reminded Poe, a hand rubbing circles into his upper back through his shirt. Fabric smooth under your nails, he arched slightly into your touch and hummed in question. “My chair? The grey one. It’s the only thing left at the old apartment.”

“Crap… I almost forgot. Let’s grab it.”

Exhausted, you sighed. “Think you could handle it? And I’ll start dinner?”

Poe nodded. All day had been spent moving boxes, dropping old furniture off to donation and driving back and forth across town. He was spent, but ready for the process to be over. And it dawned on him that lunch had been skipped among the commotion.

—-

“Not in this one either.”

Adding a teaspoon of lemon juice to the bowl, you tossed the ingredients together and pursed your lips in thought. “Maybe… that one? I thought I marked them.”

Turning a flap down to peek inside another one of the cardboard boxes stacked in the living room, Finn searched for a whisk. While he cooked a bit more often than Poe, Finn wasn’t exactly confident in his abilities. Unsurprisingly, the kitchen was outfitted with few gadgets or tools, but you brought the few you owned along. “Voilà!”

You thanked him as he handed the wire utensil over, dumping a bit of nutmeg in the bowlful of flour and sugar to form the baked topping.

Finn glanced at the clock on the microwave and back to you, “He’ll be back anytime now. Need a hand?”

“Ummm, yeah. If you could chop that garlic, that would be great. Only ‘til I get this in the oven.”

With a playful knock of his hip against yours, Finn asked you to scoot farther along the counter, giving him some space to work. His energy was contagious, and you knew how much Poe treasured his friendship. Finn was one of those people who instantly won you over, that wide grin illuminating his dark features. They worked on base at MacDill together, meeting by accident one day as Finn was in communications and Poe was in engineering development. Poe needed a roommate and the rest was history.

“Coming through, watch out,” you warned Finn as you opened the oven door, sliding in the glass dish full of peaches and doughy topping onto the center rack.

Finn noted the differences in his best friend, Poe seemed more at ease. It was hard for Finn to pinpoint, a subtle happiness that suggested he’d found some form of completion. It showed itself in small ways, like the jingle in Poe’s step as he’d hook B.B.’s tangerine chest harness up for a morning walk. Finn stopped to observe you a moment, taking note of the concentration on your face. “Poe’s lucky to have you.”

The comment made you blush, but you weren’t sure why. The idea of someone as special as him being lucky to have you, to believe they were destined to be with you, was a lot to process. It wasn’t a matter of not believing yourself worthy of love, rather a surprise that Poe was beyond what you had imagined in a partner. And he loved you. “I’m lucky to have him.”

Headlights from Finn’s white pickup flashed across the window as Poe pulled into the driveway, sending you scurrying to the record player to drop the needle on an old album inherited from Kes: Canciones de Amor, by Leo Dan. Part of you wondered if it was overkill, but you wanted Poe to know that the stories he told you about his dad mattered. Every time he mentioned something about his childhood in Georgia, it revealed an important part of him.

Finn set the knife down on the chopping block and rinsed his hands quickly before heading to the door to help Poe with the chair. When they brought it inside, Poe paused and a slow smile spread across Finn’s face. Quirking his head to the side with a little confusion, he entered the kitchen.

“Cómo Te Extraño Mi Amor” filtered through the speakers, a 1960’s pop ballad. _How I miss you, my love._ The song was romantic yet vaguely appropriate for the day, considering Poe always associated the Argentine singer’s hits with his father. He was touched that you’d remembered, and stood for a moment watching you sauté cherry tomatoes and chicken as you tapped a bare foot along with the melody.

“I didn’t know you liked this song,” Poe whispered, voice smooth as his warm hands encircled your waist from behind. Dropping his chin to your shoulder, he watched you finish tearing a few basil leaves before sprinkling them over the pasta and declaring dinner ready.

“Yeah. It’s sweet.”

“It is, but it’s also a little sad.” Poe translated the lyrics, “Love you so much and I have to wait… This destiny has taken me to the end, where my love will meet yours. Divine love, hurry and come back to me.”

Nodding, you brought three plates to the table and realized why this song meant so much to Kes. He probably listened to it growing up, and then when he was separated from Shara it took on greater depth. Military families know the pain of distance in vivid detail, after all. Then, after she died the lyrics might have gained even more personal interpretation, the destiny at the end where they’d meet. A tragic love story with a bittersweet ending.

For a moment you considered the possibility of Poe being stationed elsewhere, or even finally being accepted into that undergraduate pilot training program he’d been working toward. Waiting for the one you love sounded like being sliced in half, trying to function with only a portion of your heart. Too painful to think about seriously for now.

“It flows nicer in Spanish,” you replied. “He doesn’t sound sad, though.”

Poe sat down and poured a glass of iced tea as you and Finn joined him at the table. Looking up with a wink, he explained, “Because he’s an optimist. He misses her but he knows they’ll be together in the end.”

Halfway through dinner, the timer’s series of shrill beeps cut through the music and Poe took on a puzzled look. Finn pretended not to know what was baking, twirling his folk around a clump of angel hair pasta with a shrug. Excusing yourself with a sly smile as they finished eating, you slipped to the kitchen to take the cobbler out of the oven.

Perfect. Flaky crust sat atop a warm, gooey center of sliced peaches. Flicking a dollop of vanilla ice cream in the center of the plate, you admired your handiwork.

“What did you do?!” Poe blurted out, pleasant surprise on his face as you slid the plate in front of him. Finn laughed at his excitement.

Truth be told, Poe was a country boy at heart. Growing up in Valdosta made sure of that, with summers of fireflies and tinkering in the garage, chasing chickens in his childhood and girls in his adolescence. Occasionally you could even detect a slight drawl to his voice, usually when he was exhausted or buzzed, and the words lingered over his lips just a little longer than usual. It wasn’t something he made an effort to hide, just something that he’d mostly grown out of as he spent more and more time away from the Southern town.

Certain things reminded Poe of home, like the smell of Sazon Goya at his Aunt Leia’s or cicadas rattling loudly at dusk like a siren song. Peach cobbler was one of those things that evoked a powerful memory. Shara would send Poe out to pick them, and he’d pore over their fuzzy skin carefully to make sure each one was perfect, worthy of his mother’s baking. Tempting as it would be to eat one, he’d resist knowing it would be even better later. Even as a young boy, he had a sense of discipline when it came to what he wanted.

It felt silly, the lump rapidly growing in his throat. Taking in a deep breath, he tried to push it down as his brows furrowed. Poe pushed the chair from the table’s edge, preparing to stand before he stopped himself.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, Corazón,” he nodded without looking up. “It’s just that you’re really good to me.” He met your eyes and you found them slightly reddened with emotion.

Sliding into his lap sideways, you wrapped your arms around Poe’s neck. “You know what? Your question from earlier… I think maybe I do believe.”

“In what?”

“The idea that some people are supposed to be together. That some people are worth waiting for, like the song.”

The ice cream was melting over the warm cobbler and you scooped into it with the spoon, bringing it to Poe’s mouth playfully. Closing his eyes, he let out a jokingly exaggerated moan of approval at the dessert.

Finn interrupted with a loud cough. “Guys? This is getting really awkward.”

Laughing, you held up the spoon in threat to swat him. Poe grabbed your wrist to disarm you as he planted a wet kiss on your cheek.

——-

Crisp light had already begun to filter into your bedroom, the bedroom you now shared with Poe. On some level, you expected to find him under the covers with you, but it was empty. Not a huge shock because it was a Monday morning and Poe needed to report to MacDill early, but it slightly stung to wake to a cold bed and the knowledge that he didn’t kiss you goodbye before heading off. 

B.B. pushed his wet nose into yours, encouraging you to hop out of bed. As you did, a sound made you pause. At first you wondered if the stereo had been left on by accident in Poe’s rush to head to work on time- but then you heard it. Poe’s singing voice was different than you imagined it would be, with a kind of gravely sweetness that drifted from the kitchen. He hadn’t slipped out, after all. 

_And you want to travel with her  
And you want to travel blind_

_And you know that you can trust her  
For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind_

Pressed against the hallway, you hoped Poe didn’t hear you get up yet. The old folk song he joined in complemented the heartfelt nature of his voice. Interrupting it would be a crime, so you waited, listening. Crackles emitted from the vinyl as a single acoustic guitar faded out. You stepped into the living room and took a look at the record sleeve sitting on top of the receiver: Songs of Leonard Cohen.

“That’s beautiful,” you cooed, walking into the kitchen. Last night had been a bonding experience after officially moving in, and you were still feeling amorous. “Another one of your dad’s?”

Holding a French coffee press, Poe was still in the grey shirt and joggers he slept in. Looking up with twinkling eyes, he smiled and offered you a cup. Pulling up a stool, you stared at him for a moment, taking in his unshaven face and the tufts of hair sticking out around his ears. Somehow, he managed to be gorgeous right after rolling out of bed. “Nope, I bought this one.”

You gasped as a sudden realization hit. “Work!”

“I’m sick today.” His voice was still slightly husky from sleep. Guilt tapped on your shoulder, so obvious that he could see it from the other side of the counter. “Don’t worry, I already called my commander.”

“But—“

“I haven’t taken sick call in two years. It’s fine”. Poe rubbed the bare skin of your arm as a sign of reassurance, and drew a sip from his mug.

You listened for a moment for any sounds coming from his roommate’s end of the duplex. “And Finn?”

“He’s been at work for hours… Sucker.” He returned the creamer to the fridge, and cocked an eyebrow. “If I recall correctly, you’re not working today either. We have the place all to ourselves, so to speak.”

Faint bitterness of cafe con leche still on his lips, Poe captured your chin between his thumb and forefinger for a tender kiss.  “I’m so glad you moved in. This feels right.”

“It does. You’re my everything.”

Fingers intertwined with yours as he answered, “You’re my everything. And you’re home now.”

——-


	3. Speak To The Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe gets some important news but he doesn’t quite know how to react.

The roses had become tattered, their delicate petals warped and split around the edges already; a frown crumpled his mouth when he noticed.

Steeling his nerves, he swung his leg around to get off the Ducati. He’d followed the white lines of the freeway like a beacon flashing, bringing him here as the engine of the vintage motorcycle comforted him with a throaty roar. Poe’s eyes narrowed, he had come all this way and yet he still didn’t really want to be here. Not quite voluntary, the pull to this place was more instinctual, like the ancient migration patterns of birds. This was the place where his memories lived. Rather, where they were kept under a carpet of manicured grass.

Memories lived elsewhere also, even in the duplex in Tampa he shared with you and his best friend, Finn. Nestled in bookcases, hanging in the closet, propped up on the bedroom dresser. One of the most poignant memories had actually brought him here: a ‘74 Super Sport that used to belong to his father, Kes. Glossy black with an orange pinstripe down the center of the gas tank, it was practically welded together by stories. Poe and his father spent a grease-stained summer restoring the bike with careful precision, and a seventeen year old Poe learned much about patience and commitment from it. You start something, you follow it through all the way.

Curls sprung back into place as he removed his helmet, midnight black like the helmet and the bike itself. His features were dramatic. Thick, squared brows kit together in thought. Expressive chestnut eyes that looked continually toward the horizon. Sharp jawline clenching as he reminded himself that everything was going to work out, somehow. Poe drug two fingers along the double vermilion racing stripes of his helmet before leaving it on the seat of the gleaming motorcycle.

Treading gingerly, he started up the green knoll. Dry leaves shattered under his boots as his tired eyes searched for the name Dameron. After a few minutes of wandering, Poe took a knee in front of a pair of low granite headstones. They were slightly mismatched, his mother’s was lighter with rounded edges.

Shara Bey-Dameron. He was only eight years old when an aneurysm suddenly took her life and grief collapsed around him like a sinkhole. One day she was just gone, inconceivable in his young mind. Poe’s memories around her death seared around the minutiae: shiny shoes that dug sharply into his ankles, the pungent smell of the floral arrangements, elderly relatives he didn’t recognize sifting their gaze to him as he made his way to the front pew.

Constellations and the sky itself reminded him of Shara, and a rhyme to remember how to identify Venus among the multitude of celestial bodies had permanently lodged in his mind: _She’s very bright white and never seen late at night_. Other things, too. Comedies from the ‘80s they would watch together while his father was away on missions, huddling in front of the television with kettle corn and a plush blanket. Shara was kind, smart as a whip, an Air Force lieutenant who flew cargo ships.

Slipped the bouquet of pink roses into the bronze holder between the stones, Poe let out a gentle sigh. As he leaned forward, gravity pulled his necklace with it. The light weight of his mother’s wedding band hung there, a constant, physical reminder of her that rested just under his clavicle. After her death, the thin gold loop found its way on to a chain around his father’s neck and stayed there for 20 years.

Kes Dameron. His dad’s cancer spread mercilessly, spending him from diagnosis to Hospice within a few months. When Poe visited him after receiving his long wished-for orders for Initial Flight Training, Kes’ glazed eyes showed no emotion. That was one of the worst moments of Poe’s life. Somehow, he hoped the good news would give his dying father a sense of renewed energy. Even for a day, an hour. Instead, it didn’t even register that his son had visited.

Music and the sensation of a lingering morning mist reminded him of Kes, and memories of hiking the Appalachian Trail together would stay with him forever: _We keep moving, can’t afford to grow stale in one spot_. Packing up the tent while the sunlight still felt pale and cool, they would head off toward the next plateau, the next milestone. Kes always maintained his optimism, a man known to tap out the drum line of a song he loved against the steering wheel as he waited in gridlocked traffic. He didn’t let little things shake him, the missions he’d been a part of as Special Forces offered a perspective that put what mattered into sharp focus. One would think he would be grizzled by what he had seen, but he made a point to maintain his warmth for his son. Family and duty mattered, the rest could fall away.

Fierce and loyal, the love Poe’s parents shared was unique. Poe felt that same spark in the relationship he had with you, an authenticity that made it easy to open up. You understood him, saw past the leather jacket and disarming smile of his exterior into the person he was and to the person he wanted to be. A pilot. Ambitious to a fault, Poe had been waiting to be accepted into the full flight program when he met you. Months ticked by as the relationship deepened, marked by the transfer of all of your belongings from your small apartment into the white duplex with him and Finn. Moving in together didn’t scare him, despite the tumultuous nature of his last long term girlfriend. What did scare him was the possibility of losing you. It’s not easy to find true connection.

Letters carved into the mottled stone of the memorials were in all uppercase, a stylistic choice that felt unnecessarily loud for this quiet moment. He pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his leather jacket and nimbly shucked the plastic wrapping. Seeing how he promised to quit after his dad’s diagnosis- and had done a good job of it, despite a few slips- it felt wrong to smoke in front of him. Well, right over his grave. A grave he probably wouldn’t be in yet if not for cigarettes. He lit up anyway and savored the first drag in 15 months.

Voice creaking, Poe rested a folded piece of paper in the grass under the bruised bouquet. “Guess what this is? I got my orders for UPT. Finally.”

Speaking aloud was awkward initially, but he felt like it needed to be said aloud to someone. At last, after working his entire adult life toward this, he was going to have a chance to earn his wings at Undergraduate Pilot Training. Being able to speak without anticipating any response felt freeing, and he began to explain the situation, working it out as if Shara’s hand was resting on his back and Kes nodding across from him. It was easier to speak to the dead than the living sometimes, since they gave each sentence room to breathe and settle in the air without being blown around by a retort.

Since Thursday, he kept it a secret from everyone, even from the person he cared most about, the one who would be overjoyed for him. You. Even though it had come up in conversation many times, it was always talked about as something intangible and distant. You’d told Poe that you would wait for him if he was called away, but now it was real and staring him dead in the eye.

To settle his thoughts Friday after work, Poe went for a ride around the neighborhood on the Ducati. You weren’t home from your evening biology course yet, and he was pacing the floor of the master bedroom with B.B. whining at his heels. He needed to leave, to pull himself out of his head and get grounded. No distractions, just a headlight on the road ahead. Speed helped him convince himself that it was excitement and not anxiety that was causing his heart to pound.

Around the neighborhood became across the bridge, became the freeway, became the next state. Comfort was found in the form of the familiar squeeze of the clutch, the muscle memory his boot tapping upward as he shifted gears and navigated North through winding stretches of road. It was no surprise, machinery felt natural, an extension of himself. The sensation of wind hitting his face around the yellow-tinted visor was as close as he would get to flying at the time, close as he would get to letting the storm in his mind subside. With each mile, his anxiety seemed to soften, sharp edges filed down little by little with the passing of each junction and exit sign. Poe ended up following I-75 for hours until he finally realized where his internal compass was pointing. Georgia.

Sure, there were a few weeks to figure things out before he had to report to Vance to begin training, but he was apprehensive of actually to telling you. His mind replayed the conversation in various potential scenarios, from shouting through a sobbing mouth to you simply shutting down cold.

Stark and heart-wrenching, the reality of loss lie in front of him under six feet of Earth. Poe didn’t feel like he could bear another loss if this didn’t go right. He wasn’t ready to give you up, yet he didn’t know if together you could make it through the rigorous demands of a year of intensive flight school. Working on your thesis, you were no stranger to hard work or dedication. It was one of the things he loved about you, but this was too much to ask. The choices were simple: maintain a long-distance relationship for a year, move across the country in the middle of your studies to be close to him, or cut your losses and move on.

Poe usually got what he wanted through a powerful mix of bull-headed determination, sheer luck and a dash of smooth Cuban charm inherited from his father. He knew which option he wanted, but he was smart enough to know he couldn’t always get what he wanted when another person’s goals were at odds with his own. It wasn’t something to take lightly. You wanted to change the world, help people. He did too, imagining you in the lab and he in the sky. Imagination was one thing, reality another.

His phone buzzed from his pocket with a text.

Where the Hell are you, Poe? CALL ME

The photo he set for you in his contacts was from the day you found a big horseshoe crab at the beach. Eyes closed in a raucous laugh, powdery sand clung to your wet skin as he wrapped his arm around you and pressed a salty kiss onto your temple. Despite the fact you hated it, that was one of his favorite pictures of you together.

“She’s pissed. With good reason,” he muttered, taking another drag before stamping it out on the sole of his boot. Poe hadn’t called, hadn’t checked in. He simply left, callous as it seemed. There was too much to say, a flurry of conflicting emotion inside him. If he was too enthusiastic about his admission into the Undergraduate Pilot Training, he risked losing you. If he was too clingy and insisted you move with him or wait an entire year to be reunited, your relationship risked the same fate.

Slipping earbuds in, he leaned his forearms into the itchy grass. Morrissey crooned, yipped and shrieked on Meat Is Murder. No, that wouldn’t do right now. He needed something louder. He mashed the skip button. No, angrier. Skip. Faster. Skip. Skip. Frustrated, he yanked them out by the cord then wound them around themselves before plunging them back into his pocket.

The edge of Poe’s nail caught the flocked edge of the ring box he kept there and now he was uncomfortably aware of it. Part of him felt foolish for carrying it around, waiting for the right moment that never seemed to come among the simple domestic moments of daily life together. An eternal optimist like his father, and typically the poster boy of confidence, Poe struggled with finding a way to ask for that kind of commitment. Forever was a lot to ask of someone, even when the prospect of spending a day without hearing their voice was nearly unfathomable.

His mind went back to the day you moved in, looking at photos of his parents, listening to Kes’s old Leo Dan records and talking about the concept of soul mates, of destiny keeping people apart who are ultimately meant to be together. Poe remembered that night, the warm feeling that spread across his chest as you told him that you believed in a love worth waiting for.

_Amor divino… Pronto tienes que volver a mi_  
Divine love, hurry and come back to me.

Fuck, he wondered, why was this so hard? The five words he had in mind when he picked out the cushion-cut solitaire weren’t “move to Oklahoma with me.”

Finn’s face illuminated the display of his phone, the gleam of sunlight on his dark skin as wide grin lifted his face. The photo was taken on base at MacDill, the mottled collar of his battledress uniform peeking out from the bottom of the frame as he held up his thumb. Moving away from his best friend and roommate would be hard too, another layer of sacrifice for his dream.

Poe clicked on the alert, finding a text reading, “Where are you? Seriously”

“I’m OK”

“Where”

“Moody AFB,” Poe tapped out.

“Why”

Not knowing how to respond, he stared at the conversation in colored bubbles on the screen. Finn could see that he wasn’t typing, and Poe knew this. A minute went by before his friend followed with a final text, clearly exasperated.

“Just call your girl man. She’s freaked out. We all are.”

——

“Georgia?! What were you thinking?”

His voice stammered a little as he tried to explain, “I just ended up here.”

“Why would you do that to me?! All night, all I could imagine was terrible things. Pieces of you tangled in the grill of some eighteen wheeler…”

Your tone grew in anger as you said the ugly words out loud. He needed to hear them. To understand he shouldn’t have disappeared like that. Not on that bike. Not without offering the smallest explanation or goodbye. Poe had no idea how awful this had been for you.

His black Civic coupe was still in the driveway when you arrived to the duplex you shared with him and your roommate Finn after class on Friday. After hours of calling him, the base, every mutual friend you shared and every hospital in the county, fear really set in.

Grabbing B.B.’s wet food from the garage, you finally noticed the Ducati was missing and went into a full-blown panic attack. Sobbing, cursing, screaming on the cement floor. Finn ran out, scared that you had found something terrible.

Finn looked at you with kind eyes and helped you re-center, eventually grounding you back to the reality that you hadn’t heard any bad news. Not yet. The two of you sat on the couch quietly, drinking and scrolling through your phones in an attempt to distract yourselves until there was any update. You cried into his chest and he sat feeling helpless, knowing there was little reassurance to offer.

After emptying a few bottles, you retreated to the bedroom you and Poe shared. You picked up the worn white undershirt he’d left on the bed, and put it on. It smelled like him, offering nominal drunken comfort. B.B. licked the back of your hand solemnly and stared at the door. Clutched your phone with white knuckles, you finally shut your tear-swollen eyes.

“-wait, did you say you just ended up there?”

Silence.

“Who are you with?” you asked flatly. It wasn’t like you to be suspicious of him cheating or anything. Then again, it wasn’t like your boyfriend to disappear for almost two days.

“No one”, he answered. He stared at the dove grey headstones of his parents in front of him and rolled a wilted rose petal between his fingers.

“Why are you in a state four hours away? I deserve to know.” The last syllable strained in your throat, afraid of what the answer might be. Your emotions fell into a muddy area of the spectrum between relief, anger and suspicion.

“I’m…” The reception in the cemetery was spotty, but it was his voice fragmenting.

“Show me where you are,” you demanded. It just came out of your mouth, uncharacteristic as it was. “Show me. Send me a picture.”

Poe could tell how deeply this had hurt you, and knew it reopened a deep wound of abandonment by your mother. He had to earn your trust back, especially since he planned to propose soon.

His face was mostly obscured; he couldn’t even make eye contact in a photograph right now. Headstones to the right of him were blurred from pulling his thumb away too quickly while taking the selfie. Anxiety seized your stomach as you studied the picture message. He was… visiting his parent’s graves. Why now? Why like this? Something must be very wrong.

“The, uh, irony of brooding in a graveyard in a place called Moody isn’t lost on me.” he half-heartedly joked after he saw the selfie he took was delivered.

Disarmed, you still couldn’t laugh. Your jaw softened but the muscle there still ached from the night of tension. “Just come home.”

“I am. We’ll talk tonight, okay.”

The lump in his throat was audible as he added, “I’m sorry, Amor.”

Whatever the catalyst for all this was, it must’ve been something big. Now, there were almost five hours of time between you. Five more hours of anxiety.

————

Sometimes his skin took on a slightly metallic scent when he sweat. As soon as he pulled into the garage, you heard the familiar sound of the vintage bike and sprinted over. Pulling his black and red helmet off, he hooked his arms around you, still straddling the seat as the heat from the engine wafted around your legs. Neither one of you spoke for several moments, just taking solace in each other’s touch as you breathed him in.

Cradling the back of his head, you noticed his raven curls were a little limp and damp from being in the helmet for many hours. He desperately needed a shower, but you gripped his body tighter, afraid he would vanish when you let go. Garage door closing behind him, Poe squeezed you harder and pressed his forehead into yours, repeating “I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m here.”

The night before, Finn told you that in the time they had been best friends and roommates, he’d never disappeared like that. Still struggling to understand, you tried to quell the anger you still harbored long enough to hear his explanation.

“Glad you’re okay, buddy. Now don’t pull a stunt like that again,” Finn chided, patting Poe on the shoulder after he opened the door to the living room.

Leading you to the bedroom for some privacy, he went back over he events of the weekend in his mind before he spoke. How he went, pretty much on autopilot, all the way to the Moody Air Force base. It’s where he grew up, where his family formed memories. Although his dad wasn’t there anymore, it still felt like home in a way. His parents were buried close by in Valdosta, and his aunt Leia still lived in the city but was retired from the Force now.

The night Poe arrived in Georgia, he started drinking at a bar on base. One shot of Patron to steady his nerves before calling you became three, then he lost count. In a fit of drunken nostalgia, he called his aunt around 2:00 AM for a bit of advice. Having none of his Bravo Sierra, Leia showed up to the bar and practically dragged him back to her home by his ear to sleep it off.

They talked over breakfast into the afternoon, Poe tapping on a mug of cafe con leche as he sought out her wisdom. Aunt Leia had always been a straight-shooter and was his closest maternal role model after his mom died. Despite her frank nature, Leia had an almost regal poise to her, silvering hair coiffed into braided buns and hazel eyes that seemed to read Poe’s inner thoughts with ease. She always had that effect on him, like a human lie detector.

Leia understood the stress Poe felt at wanting to keep you close when he went to the pilot training in Oklahoma, the conflict in his heart. He didn’t want to pressure you into moving there, only for him to be stationed elsewhere in a year, nor interrupt your coursework. He also couldn’t lose you, neither abruptly nor slowly due to the strain of a long-distance relationship.

He explained the sting of guilt at leaving you behind to pursue his dream, leaving you behind the way everyone else before him seemed to. Your family wasn’t like his, and Poe was afraid of reopening the wound of emotional abandonment that you tried so hard to keep guarded. Leia’s advice was simple: Talk to her. Hypothetical conversations weren’t going to solve anything. He knew she was right.

The space between Poe’s eyebrows formed a deep crevice of exhaustion and emotion as held out a folded piece of paper out to you. His orders to report to Undergraduate Pilot Training. 1,300 miles away. 12 long months of flight school.

“I’m ready to talk about this.”

Reading the letter over and over, key words repeated in your mind until it clicked. Tears pushed their way into your eyes again, this time fueled by a mix of both positive and negative emotion.

“Poe! Oh my God. It’s… finally happening!” you exclaimed, nearly knocking him over with another hug. Relief washed over his face for a few moments. It was good to hear happiness in your voice again.

Taking your hand, he explained that during the training, he’d have to live in the dormitories and wouldn’t have an option to live off-post with you. That is, if you were to come, he added. Weary eyes turned downward, he caressed the delicate skin on the back of your hands with this thumbs.

You were still working toward your Biochemistry Masters, and he was so proud of you. That’s why you moved to the area in the first place, to attend the university. Just as Poe had been paying his dues in the Air Force for years, you had been paying yours in academia.

“I can’t ask you to come.”

Processing it slowly, he held you again in silence. Master’s degrees were supposed to be earned within two or three years after earning your Bachelor’s. And you’d still have to find a research advisors and all that, but maybe you could transfer your credits and make it work at the closest university to the base. Taking a year or more off from your studies seemed like scholastic suicide.

Your boyfriend wasn’t about to abandon his ambitions, and neither were you. Sometimes his blend of stubbornness and overt confidence made you want to break his neck; other times it was the sexiest thing about him, because you understood it. His dream of flight was finally poised to come true, but he knew it wouldn’t be as sweet without you by his side.

“Baby, I don’t want to be apart…” Your voice was muffled against his chest now, and tears spread like ink blots against the fabric of his dirty shirt. “But you know I’ll wait for you.”

Shara’s wedding band hung around Poe’s neck like an anchor. The solitaire in his jacket pocket, like an oyster waiting to be shucked, burned in his mind. Although getting married could open up the possibility of on-post housing for you, this moment was devoid of romance. You deserved much more than the suggestion of a wedding under duress, so his question to you remained unasked.

Fatigue hung on your face after two days of concentrated, raw emotion. Brushing the hair off your forehead, Poe gazed into your eyes before turning out the light. Pangs of remorse still gripped him, and he didn’t know how to make up for the pain he had caused you.

Pulling you onto his chest, Poe’s whispered voice seemed to echo through the darkness of the bedroom as your lungs rattled with another sniffle.

“We’re going to make this work, together. I promise.”


	4. It's Worth It - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Poe leaves for Undergraduate Pilot Training, he treats you to a little get-away.
> 
> NSFW - Explicit

Gripping Poe’s bicep, you jumped in your seat as another noise came from the back of the plane. “Amor, it’s okay.” He set a warm hand over yours. “You’re shaking?”

“You know I just don’t really-“ The cabin shook slightly and a yelp escaped your mouth. “I don’t understand how you fly these things. This is terrifying.”

Stifling a laugh, Poe turned toward the aisle. It was cute that you were so nervous, only because he knew you were safe.

“It’s fun,” he shrugged.

“You’re an adrenaline junkie.”

He flashed that irresistible smile. “We’re gonna have a great time… I’m so glad we’re able to do this.”

He thumbed through a Junot Diaz book to find his place, and you rested your head on his shoulder. That Bailey’s shot in your coffee wasn’t helping calm your nerves as much as you had hoped.

——-

Immediately, you dashed to the window. The lights of Denver took on a surreal glow against the gleam of the snow in the moonless night. “Oh! Look at our view,” you marveled.

Poe pressed his body against your back, wrapping his arms around your stomach as he picked you up from behind. Squealing, you kicked into the air as he spun you around to face the hotel room. Elegant and modern, it had a gas fireplace and low platform bed. “Wow. This is too much…”

Shushing you, he insisted, “Nah, it’s worth it. And it sure as Hell isn’t happening again anytime soon. Gotta make the most of it, right?”

Yeah, that. He was leaving for Vance Air Force Base in a week. This countdown was strange, filling you with conflict. Incredibly proud of him, you knew this was a life-changing opportunity, although your heart sunk at the very thought of him being across the country. You understood why he wanted to splurge on something really special before leaving.

Taking your face in both his hands, Poe planted a delectable, sweet kiss on your lips. It sent you into a dreamy state immediately.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied, pressing his forehead against your own as you stood. His tone was hushed, like there was a secret to share. “What now?”

“More of this.” You kissed him again, this time with a sense of urgency. Wandering fingers ran through your hair, then down from the nape of your neck to the front of your cardigan. Navigating the buttons, his expression built in intensity.

Hazelnut eyes contained a desperation that stemmed from knowing you’d be separated while he competed the rest of flight school. He’d be giving up domesticity intimacy for a lonely dormitory. You’d be on the other side of a Skype conversation instead of in his arms. Gliding a hand over your breast, his gaze was steadfast.

Tenderly, you ran your hand along his sculpted jaw, resting your thumb in the center of his bottom lip. His mouth hung open softly. Leaning forward, you brought the tip of your tongue to his, barely touching. A ripple of arousal shot between your legs. Heart racing, you longed to feel the contact of his skin and breathe in synchronicity with the Airman you loved.

Poe’s pace was unhurried. Eyes closed, he reveled in the tentative nature of it- a departure from the usual physicality you shared. It was as if he wanted to study every inch of you instead of consuming you.

The sweater he’d been playing with fell to the hardwood floor of the hotel room, his finger slipping the thin strap of your camisole down over your shoulder. Biting his lip, he closed his deep hickory eyes and tried to pace himself. A handful of breast filled his palm and he kneaded hungrily. Soon, your bra was off and flung across the room. Body burning with arousal, Poe’s mouth found your nipples, licking and teasing in short, slow strokes as your hand clasped the nape of his neck. His cock was hard and he wanted you, completely.

The texture of his five o’clock shadow make the bare skin bristle as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and let out a groan. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

Tugging at his scarf, you inched his body closer. First he shed his jacket, then the scarf, then you lifted his sweater overhead. 

“What’s that smile for?” Poe asked, amused at the subtle shift in mood. You smoothed down the fluff the sweater had made of his coal black hair, then your smile wavered as tears welled up.

Sighing, Poe held your head to his chest. His lifelong dream was no longer a shimmering dot on the horizon, but a cold crowbar about to pry you apart. He knew this day was coming, and had since the night you met. Long-distance relationships are a part of military life, but he’d never had to navigate one before. Poe was an optimist but that didn’t mean he was naive. Every mile of distance would be painful. 

“I just… I know it’s temporary, but it’s scary.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of. I love you,” he comforted. His voice echoed with your ear pressed so close to his lungs. He wanted to protect you, hating that the source of his joy was simultaneously the source of your shared pain.

“And I love you, Poe.” Pulling him toward the bed, you grew impatient for him. You wanted the taste of his saliva, the weight of his body, imprinted into your own.

Movements slow and deliberate, he sought to connect. This wasn’t a clamoring frenzy of lust, rather an exploration of pleasure drawn out into the night. Squirms and gasps and fingers reaching out in flickering light to trace the contour of a lip, the swell of a calf muscle, the patch of downy hair over a sacrum. Discarding your pants onto the floor, he knelt down and ran his hands over the silky length of your legs as you leaned back into the mattress. Poe’s fingertips felt charged with electricity and sent your nipples at attention. Slowly, languidly skimming up your body as you held your breath.

Kissing a birthmark just under your navel, he mused, “I think I’m going to miss this little spot the most.”

A mixture of surprise and puzzlement washed across your features as you gazed down at Poe. “Really? On my whole body, that’s your favorite spot?”

He circled his index finger around birthmark for a moment before dropping another tender kiss over the little patch of skin.

“What can I say? I like to root for the underdog.”

With a smirk, Poe undid his belt and pulled down the rest, skin reflecting the golden flicker of the fireplace. Noticing you admire his body, he licked his lips. Dammit, did he know how to turn you on.

You dug your heels into the bed as he climbed over you. Covering your chest in moist kisses, he reached for the light switch on the wall. Pausing, he studied your face, its features now sent into shadowed contrast by the fire’s dancing light.

Your love was Poe’s North Star. Never before had he experienced a magnetic need for someone, not just to be drawn to them but to orient his life around them. He saw you as a beacon, a comforting, grounding constant in his high-flying life.

Moving his hands over your waist, he kissed you with a faint pressure. His lips were soft, almost velvety. Melting at the tenderness, your hips lifted off the bed slightly as he slipped your panties down. Another gush of wetness flowed between your thighs as your skin was exposed to the air. Stopping to admire your nude form for a moment, Poe let out an exhale.

Sandalwood. Musk. Leather. Warmth radiated from his body. You sighed as it pressed into yours, feeling the contact of skin to skin. His familiar scent clouded your mind. Oh, how you were going to miss it.

Groaning with desire in unison, your eyes flicked up to his. Through the smooth skin of his chest, his heart thumped rapidly and vibrated in a duet against yours. The sensation of his hands on you filled you with a ravenous heat, and your pelvis pressed against him in a harder grind. His mouth lingered over yours, breathing becoming heavier. Pangs of anticipation throbbed at your core. Every caress was earnest.

Poe loved to dote on you, and not just in the bedroom. He wanted communicate that same loving attitude tonight- even more than usual- to truly make love to you before he left. Craft a night so enthralling that a warmth would spread through your body at the mere recollection of your time in Denver. 

Dropping to the edge of the bed, Poe ran his hands along your thighs as he situated himself between them. Kneading at your legs higher and higher, he could smell how excited you were, so willing to receive him. Soft obsidian curls brushed against the fragile skin, teasing with texture as his lips followed his hands up to the apex.

Poe wanted to immerse himself in the deluge between your legs, drown in it even. His voice surged with lust, “Mmmm… I’m gonna miss the taste of you.”

First, a gentle kiss just over the fleshy cleft as you trembled in want, then Poe drew a long, uninterrupted lick from the bottom of your moist slit all the way up to the sensitive bud. With suction around your clit, Poe pushed your knees father apart as you began to moan. The sinful sound of your pleasure and the taste of you made him ache, his erection hardening out of your reach. Drawing lazy strokes, his skilled tongue drug up and down, darting into your juicy void.

“Please, please…” you begged for more, like music to his ears.

Hooking his hands across the top of your legs, he pulled your body down off the bed partially and your feet hit the floor just before he threw your knees across his shoulders. Diving in again, he sucked at your swollen labia on each side, relishing the juicy response to his mouth. Heat gathered deep in your pelvis, kindled with his each stroke of his velvet-soft tongue.

Grasping at the comforter under your nude body, you were deliriously on the cusp of orgasm already. Poe pulled away, dark and mischievous eyes flicking up to watch you contort in want, denying that release for the moment.

Wordlessly, your hand pressed against the mop of hair at his scalp, pushing his face into your slick wetness again. Poe obliged with a hum, his tongue wide and pliable now as he lapped deeply at your pussy as your hips squirmed against him. Unrelenting, he massaged at your folds again and again, his fingertips digging into the yielding flesh of your ass as he brought you to that precipice once more.

With a squeal, you finally tumbled over the edge, legs snapping closed against Poe’s jaw as a gush of clear fluid met his tongue. As he sucked and licked you through it, your vision faded to white. Sublime.

As the rest of your senses returned, you found Poe standing at the foot of the bed, wiping the moisture from his chin with a satisfied smile. You started to reach for his cock, impossibly hard with a glistening bead of precome at the tip, but he shook his head. Gorgeous and tight and dripping wet for him, he needed you already.

Drawing your knees up, you smoothly guided the head, then quickly his entire length into you as he stood on the floor. Poe’s mouth fell open at that blissful moment where the slick heat of your body engulfed him.

The sudden penetration was an overwhelming jolt for you both, and you shuddered at the feeling of a trickle of fluid down your inner thigh, displaced as his thick cock entered you. Angling his hips for maximum stimulation, he started pumping, slowly, a sensual loving nature to his movement. You responded by reaching for his hands on your hips as you moaned, rolling your hips in harmony with his delicious rhythm.

Pleasure took over, and everything else slipped away. Faster now, he thrust into you as you undulated around him. Clipped breath and sounds of wet skin mingled with the soft squeak of the bed under you. Poe gripped you and pushed his knee into the mattress, climbing on top without breaking contact. Tongue entering your mouth again, he softly licked the wet inside of your lip as you tasted your own arousal. Breaking the kiss, he brushed a stray hair off your cheek.

“Te adoro. Eres mi todo,” he whispered, his breath rich with passion. _I adore you, you’re my everything._

You tried to vocalize how you didn’t want him to leave, how you didn’t want him to stop, how you wanted him to never change. Gasps and sighs escaped through your parted lips instead.

Digging into his shoulders, Poe knew he was driving you wild. Shifting his weight onto his knees, he brought himself to a slightly more vertical position and grasped your thighs. Massaging the soft flesh for a moment, he paused before pulling you back toward his pelvis. The deeper contact made you howl with ecstasy.

“Babe- I… Babe,” you wheezed.

A smile crept across Poe’s flushed lips. “There? Maybe that’s the spot?” he huffed out.

Moaning in affirmation, you inched closer and closer to climax. Thrusting faster, his eyes fell on your body as it jostled below him. You shrieked, wrapping your legs around him as you came a second time. His fingers entwined with yours and he pushed the backs of your hands into the bed, pinning you down as he chased a release of his own. Heightening your orgasm, you screamed loudly as your pussy clenched around him, the intensity of your lovemaking too strong to bite back. Bodies and hearts were intertwined in a desperate yearning to merge into one organism, to become something greater together than you ever could be as individuals. 

Watching your eyes roll and your mouth contort in bliss sent Poe over the edge. Lacing his fingers in your hair, he moaned out your name as he finished, cock twitching as he filled you. Panting and sweating, aftershocks reverberated through his lean body as he attempted to catch his breath. When you were both ready, he slid himself off and laid down recumbent next to you, arms and legs entwined with each other despite the exertion.

Body heavy with exhaustion and happiness, you looked up at him. With those damp curls plastered to his forehead and eyes sleepy in contentment, Poe was everything to you. “You have no idea how much I’m going to miss you.”

“Oh, I think I do.”

——-

Denver was vivid, you both soaked in the beauty of the mountain city as a contrast to the balmy tropical setting of Tampa.

Poe relished every moment, trying to etch it into memory. Your gloved fingers curling around his arm on the ski lift as it soared higher and higher. Laughter pealing from glossy lips as you earned deep bruises across your hips, climbing the learning curve while attempting to snowboard. Watching in awe as a glimpse of wildlife flashed within the treeline, your mouth lifting in a smile as he simply drank in your wonder and enthusiasm.

Hidden in a sock at the bottom of his duffle bag, the brilliant solitaire stayed. Poe briefly entertained impluses to proprose with dramatic flair, then considered an understated approach.

Somehow, despite all the laughter on the snow-dusted slopes and the magnetic draw to hold each other every moment you were alone in the hotel room together, it never came.

Intimacy and tearful whispers filled the night, your body nestled against Poe’s substantial form as the weight of his orders washed over you both. The pending separation was bittersweet, and although Poe was excited to finally begin flight school, his heart was riddled with conflict.

Not right, not yet.

Poe would wait, because it was worth it to find the right moment.


	5. Flight School Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe hits his stride at the Undergraduate Pilot Training and makes a new friend.

“I thought there’s some law that it’s illegal to deface money? It’s government property, technically speaking.”

“Technically speaking, we’re both government property too,” Poe answered, popping the cap off on a black ballpoint Pen as he leaned over the bar.

Shrugging, Snap took another swig of Newcastle as he watched Poe scrawl onto a dollar bill. The two became immediate friends the first day of the program, and had begun a routine of a beer or two after demanding classes a couple times a week. “Snap” was a fitting nickname for Temmin Wexley, his dry quips a fitting rival to Poe’s sense of humor. A husky South Texan with a dark beard, Snap possessed a no-bullshit personality and a love for machinery. Like Poe, his mother’s service had also been a driving force in his choice to enlist.

Finally, Poe slid the dollar across the smooth bar top for Snap to inspect. The next morning was the infamous Dollar Ride, an Air Force tradition where the pilots in training had their first flight after weeks of simulations and classwork. Because it wasn’t graded, it was known to be a “freebie” and thus students would pay the instructors with decorated dollars.

“Did you actually draw a helmet and life support gear on George Washington?” Snap laughed as he held the money to the light. Fairly detailed, the image of the forefather was defaced with a helmet, visor, and oxygen mask. Outlines of fluffy clouds peeked out from behind his shoulders and a vague silhouette of fighter jets in formation decorated the green paper.

“Better believe it.”

“Wholly unoriginal... but the drawing isn’t bad. You really have to go above and beyond in everything you do, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Poe answered, tossing a handful of peanuts into his mouth.

  
——

Flight was just as exhilarating as he imagined, the pounding in Poe’s chest as he took control of the yoke for the first time wasn’t out of fear. In many ways it was a relief that his hard work had actually paved the way for his dream to come true. It was a practice sortie without the threat of a bad grade, and the instructor was right there, so it was tradition for the Dollar Ride be more fun than anything.

Indescribable, he wished he could share that emotion with you. Almost an intensified version of the feeling he got on his dad’s old Ducati, hugging curves and pushing far beyond the speed limit as the road stretched out before him in vast potential. Something about chasing the horizon appealed to Poe on a level he couldn’t quite understand, a metaphor for his ambition itself.

And he was good, beyond good. Quickly Poe rose to the top of the class at Vance, studying long into the night and executing maneuvers in the simulations and in actual flights in the day. The training was rigorous, twelve hour days every day. Three hours of planning, preflight checks, and debriefing went into each short flight, a pace that was often frustrating for Poe, who swore his body felt made to be strapped into the cockpit. He thrived when he could feel the response of the aircraft to his control, tuning into the feedback until it became as intuitive as shifting gears while driving. An extension of himself.

  
——

“Look, your little buddy wants to say hi!”

You pulled B.B. into your lap and Poe spoke to him in a singsong voice through the phone as the scruffy dog wiggled. He’s lucky there’s no roommate to make fun of him, you thought. Finn never did, but to be honest that was simply because Finn was just as much of an unabashed dork for animals.

Seeing your face for the first time in three days, he lit up. Well, if seeing you through FaceTime on his phone or Skype counted. Between the slight time difference, crushing workload and conflicting schedules between your job at the USF bookstore and courses, it was hard to sync up. Being over 3,000 miles away in Oklahoma was taking its toll, despite long days and a information overload that seemed to be endless. Poe craved returning to the comfort of your arms after an exhausting day.

Coming home after class or work wasn’t the same without Poe there. The kind of guy who engulfed the bed, he managed to tangle himself in your limbs, so you’d wake to find your lower leg draped over his stomach or his wrist caught in your arm pit. Even when he wasn’t conscious, Poe’s personality couldn’t be ignored. Often muttering a stream of bizarre imagery, be also had a habit of talking in his sleep. Entertaining at first, it quickly became annoying. B.B. would insist on curling up at your feet, making the queen sized bed even more cramped. Despite it all, you missed sleeping next to him.

Before he left, you briefly entertained the idea of transferring credits to Northwestern. That didn’t solve the matter of housing, though. It made sense to stay in the apartment with Finn and finish out your degree while visiting each other as often as reasonable, which turned about to be roughly every two months or so.

“Did you get the video?!” Poe asked excitedly.

Earlier in the day was his first solo flight. The Air Force was full of traditions, another such one involving a trough of water being drug out to the flight line the morning the new batch of pilots would be running a sortie without an instructor in the copilot seat. Poe had been telling you about it for a while, and his class had spent time night before decorating said water trough with drawings and sayings.  
Snap had the idea to run with the theme of water, and drew a fairly good rendition of the imposing, Australian shark from Finding Nemo on the side. Other members of the group added their two cents, scrawling quotes like “sink or swim” around the drawing.

As Poe exited the T-38, he started to laugh because he knew exactly what was coming. Classmates, led by Snap naturally, charged for him the moment his boots hit the ground in the hangar.

“You look a little too excited about this!” Poe yelled to Snap as they took hold of his arms and led him over to the tank of water. “I think you’re gonna drown me, dude.”

“That’s the plan. Then I’ll be the best in the class,” Snap shot back with a chuckle as he started to record a video of Poe laughing and struggling on his cell phone.

“I’m the best but you’re the best too—“  
Although he had a fairly athletic build, Poe was a lot shorter than his classmates and they hoisted him up easily before dunking him into the tank, olive flight suit, boots and all. For an instant he was submerged in water, a sort of guerrilla baptism, before he shot up with a gasp.

“I’m surprised Dameron didn’t float, with that inflated ego and all,” a gaunt lieutenant snarked, standing aside from the group of pilots who were enjoying a good-natured prank. Hux was impressed by Poe, as people tended to be, but he dug his heels in when it came to resisting the charm he exuded. Arms folded in front of his chest, the redheaded lieutenant wasn’t looking forward to his turn to be dunked after his flight was completed. He was there to fly, not splash in a kiddie pool.

After Poe regained his bearings, he lifted himself out of the water, olive flight suit soaking wet and streams of water still falling from his weighed-down curls, electric smile upon his face. Jumping to his feet, Poe craned his head back and let out the loud, exaggerated howl of a cartoon wolf. Later in the day, after he had changed into fresh clothes and his coursework and debriefings were done, Poe sent the video to you.

“That seriously made my heart burst,” you answered when he asked if you had seen it. “I’m glad you’re able to blow off some steam.”

“It was crazy, being in control like that. Not as stressful as I thought it would be,” Poe confessed, throwing his leg over the back of the tiny IKEA couch in his room.

It wasn’t much but he did have privacy when Skyped you. Sometimes Poe even propped his phone up on the dresser, recording himself playing one of your favorite songs while strumming his acoustic guitar. Music was his usual release valve when it came to stress, his fingers navigating the strings in familiar patterns as his thoughts slowed to a simmer. To brighten your day, he’d send these videos randomly, particularly when your research was especially frustrating and you felt like you were hitting a brick wall on your way to your Master’s.

“What about you, mi amor? I hope that thesis isn’t melting your brain too much.”

“It’s okay, this is the homestretch. Sometimes Rose and Rey drag me out of the house for sushi.”

“God. That sounds good,” Poe lamented, “the food here sucks. Promise we’ll go for some decent Japanese when I visit?”

You agreed and he smiled through the pixelated connection. When you were able to actually get a hold of each other, it was usually late night. Poe liked to joke it was a booty call. His sense of humor had gotten a little dirtier since he’d been there. It was surprising that was even possible, with some of the things known to come out of his beautiful mouth. Figuring out which was more to blame was impossible, the testosterone-rich environment or the frustration of being apart. Or both. Tonight he held off the dirty jokes, however.

“I miss you… I’m so proud of you but I want you here.”

“I know, Corazón. And I miss you too. We’ll just have to wait another day”, Poe answered, yawning after his eventful day. “Soon.”

“Do we have to?”

“Unfortunately, unless I can borrow that T-38.”


	6. Some Things Don’t Change - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe visits from flight school and things get steamy. Think military kink involving his jacket.
> 
> NSFW - Explicit

Mouths smashing together clumsily, Poe held tight around your shoulders and dipped you toward the floor of the baggage claim area dramatically. Barely containing his joy to see you, his kiss was heated as he gripped your body in the middle of the terminal of the Tampa airport.

His enthusiasm elicited a few whistles from the other passengers milling around, waiting for their luggage. It would’ve been embarrassing, had you not been so delighted to see him. Poe was a sight for sore eyes, achingly handsome in his mottled ABUs, Dameron embroidered above the pocket on his chest.

“That seemed a lot more romantic and less awkward in my head”, he chuckled when you caught your breath.

“I like your awkward,” you insisted with another tight hug.

His eyes crinkled in an grin he’d had since sprinting toward the tram. It hadn’t been that long since he began the flight program, yet the reunion was emotional. Poe had missed you dearly, and now that you were in front of him he didn’t want to let go.

During the drive home from the airport, he was unable to keep his hands off you. Every few minutes, you realized his hand was pawing at your thigh again, and he shot you a dashing smile when you’d accuse him of reckless driving. Each red right was punctuated by nibbling on your earlobe until you blurted, “Green! Green!”

Honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way after going so long without his affection. After more than two months of build-up, you were finally able to see each other face to face. He practically carried you straight into the bedroom from the car.

“Watch out! Don’t step on B.B.”

“Sorry buddy, I’ll have time for you later.” Poe apologized, his right eyebrow raised.  
“…who am I kidding? Come here, boy!”

He lifted the little red and white terrier into the air and kissed him between the ears for a minute in the living room.

Turning the corner into your shared bedroom, he froze. While he was greeting B.B., you quickly stripped off your clothes and now stood waiting for him, wearing strappy, sheer black lingerie. Immediately, his heart pounded in his chest so forcefully he thought it might crack his sternum. The door clicked shut, leaving B.B. to whine in discontent in the hall. He moved swiftly, hungry hands clamoring for every inch of exposed skin.

“…Poe.” The sound of you moaning his name drove him wild. His lips were supple, his tongue probing into your mouth with lust. Poe savored your taste after months without, exploring like a starved man finally offered a feast.

He began to shed his clothes but his hands were halted over the buttons of his jacket. Your fingertips traced over the insignia on his chest, his last name and up to the stubble that dotted along his neck.

“Leave it on, you look sexy.”

“Can I at least take my boots off?” he half-joked.

Shaking your head no, you dropped to your knees. Gulping in arousal, he instead brought his hands to caress the bare skin of your shoulders, slowly this time.

Over the course of your relationship, you’d confessed- and acted out- your share of fantasies, but he kept mentioning one simple thing that he missed while he was away. You wanted to make sure he wasn’t disappointed. Slowly, you pulled him closer by his belt loops. Like honey, you slowly unclasped his fatigue pants and lowered the zipper. Poe’s deep chestnut eyes were going to smolder a hole right through you, before they snapped shut in anticipation when you yanked his pants and boxer briefs open just enough to expose his hard cock.

The moments before your lips made contact with him were agonizing. Head craned back, Poe’s eyes shut as he waited, seconds ticking by slowly.

Poe wasn’t used to being passive in any part of his life, never had been. Maybe that was why it was so exciting to him, psychologically, to be vulnerable. Trust was implicit, but it was still a rush to be the passive one.

“Fuck…” he gasped as you finally drew your tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, encircling the end with buttery soft strokes before covering the rest of his length in sloppy, wet licks.

“What? No witty remark for me?”

“At the moment, I’ve got nothing.”  
Smirking, you grasped him firmly in your right hand and began to caress up and down his shaft. “Sure doesn’t look like you’ve got nothing.”

  
“I-“ He was breathless already. “I’m supposed to be the smartass in this relationship. And I take great pride in that.”

Taking his length into your mouth, you felt his body jerk in pleasure as you began sucking him. Poe’s breath was choppy as you began to bob deeper, bracing his hips with your palms. Deeper, wetter.

A hand drifted to the back of your head, making easy circles into the roots of your hair, barely holding back the urge to direct your movements. Always in control, that one. Breaking suction with a popping sound, you gently scolded, “Hands off.”

Nodding in surprise, Poe’s dilated eyes fixed on you. Fingernails drug across his ass through his pants and you glided his shaft into your mouth again. Muscles flexed and tensed in response as he enjoyed your touch. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to caress you- far from it. You just wanted him to get the slightest taste of submission.

Wrestling with the need to touch you, he found himself pulling his hips away because it was all too much for his senses. He didn’t want to come, not yet. Not ‘til he’d fucked you hard, making you call out his name as your legs trembled around him. Letting out a sound that wasn’t quite a giggle and wasn’t quite a gasp, he backed into the desk.

“Wait- Amor…” he protested, voice wavering.  
Asserting yourself, you pushed him just a little bit farther. Bracing his hips again, you increased your suction around his hard cock as he pressed backward against the hard wooden surface. Faster. Adrenaline surged through Poe’s veins as you pushed him right to the cusp of pleasure, sucking so forcefully it rode the border between pain and pleasure.

Rolling your tongue under him one more time, you met his deep hickory eyes. He knew exactly what you were doing, toying with him. Seeing that gleam in your eye while your mouth was still around him was almost invasive in its intimacy. You held all the power, the most sensitive part of his body between your teeth, at your mercy. The very idea of it practically got him off, nevermind the sinful look on your face as you reminded him exactly who was in charge here.

Just as he braced himself to come into your eager mouth, you drew his length out and languidly kissed from the base to the tip. Poe whimpered at the sudden loss of sensation, his thick cock throbbing as every cell in his body demanded release.

Poe struggled to find a word that could possibly encompass the arousal he felt at being both served and slightly dominated.  
“…Incredible,” he finally muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. That wide smile beamed across his face again as he kicked off his boots and finally dropped his pants.

Letting out a soft guffaw, you rose to stand opposite him. Mouth flushed, you eyeed him seductively as he enclasped your bra. “I’ve missed you.”

Grazing his stubble against your bare breasts, he replied, “I can tell.”

Poe unbuttoned his jacket and pulled his sand-colored shirt overhead, as you scanned his body in admiration. The veins in his arms. His flat stomach. The thin loop of gold sparkling at his clavicle. That delicious, familiar scent of amber and suede. It was good to see some things don’t change.

“I know you love a man in uniform, but I have to feel your skin…” he apologized with a lopsided grin as he lowered himself onto the bed. “Now get over here.”

Picking his jacket up from the floor, you pouted. “Can you wear this?”

“You put in on, if you like it so much.”

Slipping an arm though, you smiled. “Maybe I will.”

In an instant, Poe grabbed you and pulled you atop to straddle him. Your body looked gorgeous, soft and feminine in contrast with his camouflage battledress jacket, and he wondered why you hadn’t worn in earlier. A sticky string of wetness clung to your outer lips as he pulled your panties down, and he groaned at the sight. Burning even more for you, he knew that you enjoyed going down on him so much that you were positively soaked after it. Poe needed you, missed your scent and taste and the sound of your breath in his ear.

“No fair. It looks better on you.”

Pressing a finger into the indentation above his top lip, you smirked. “Just take me already, Captain Dameron.”

Apparently, you were just as greedy for his body as he was for yours. With that command, he gripped your ass and shoved you down around his cock. Wet and swollen with arousal enough to take it immediately, Poe hissed in a deep inhalation as he filled your cunt. Pummeling into you, he brought his knees up and guided you down by the hips. A husky groan escaped his lips as you steadied yourself by pushing against his chest with the palms of both hands.

“That what you missed?” Poe huffed out, “That what you needed?”

“Yes… give it to me…”

Sliding his dick out, he paused a moment to admire the desperation on your face before asking calmly, “Give it to me, what?”

“Captain? Give it to me, Captain…”

Slowly this time, inch by inch he slipped in between your juicy wet folds, squeezing and kneading at your body until he filled you to the hilt. Once he he’d penetrated you absolutely, he began to rock his hips sensually, foregoing the more aggressive methods for the time being. This was a long time coming, and Poe wanted to make it last, to watch your face at that moment of ecstasy. Tightening around him, you rolled your hips over Poe as his rough hands slipped over the breasts that peeked out of his jacket.

Your name was sweet on his lips, repeated like the soft chorus of a song as he looked into your brilliant eyes.

Closer and closer to climax, he took control with a series of rapid thrusts that made you scream out. Another flood of moisture met him, and you melted around his cock once more. Tipping forward over his body, you embraced Poe as he fucked you deeply. Thoughts became hazy and distant as you let go, the bliss of orgasm crashing over you like a tsunami.

Nails ran down the soft sides of his ribs, fingertips dug into the supple flesh of your round ass. Ravenous for more contact, he leaned forward and nipped gently against your neck before licking up the column of your throat. Gasps for precious air as he pumped into you right through it, overstimulation making the focus of your eyes go soft as you looked into Poe’s face.

Closer. Deeper. Harder. Harder.

With a guttural noise, he caught up soon after, jerking as he spilled into you. Lazy strokes finished it out, your pussy sopping wet with a combination of both your fluids as Poe gradually grew soft within you. He flinched as he slipped out, nerves tingling with sensitivity. Your head rested on his chest, bodies sticky and humid as you both struggled to regain a normal breathing pattern.

Before heading to the bathroom to clean up, Poe watched you stand in front of the bed and stretch your back, still wearing his ABU jacket. “So, you’ll be needing this back, I assume?”

Poe ran a hand through his coal-black waves and bit his lip, surveying your nude form.

“Keep it. It suits you.”

“Really?”

Laughing, he sat up and swatted at your ass. “No, not really. But you can keep me.”

Forearms resting on his taut shoulders, you gave your boyfriend a lingering look. Poe watched quietly while you examined his dark eyes, the dip at the tip of his nose, his troublemaking smirk.

“Okay… I guess I’ll keep you.”


	7. Supposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe rushes back to Tampa when you have a medical emergency. TW for bereavement.

Concern washed over Poe’s features as he sat in the mess hall. Again and again he called, with no response. He checked your text message again, the tone and urgency of it was unsettling, rattling around in his mind when he should have been decompressing briefly between classes and pre-flight checks.

He trusted you to be faithful but knew you had to receive attention from classmates. Even the passing thought of you flirting with someone caused his stomach to knot in jealousy.Anxiety replaced hunger, his lunch sitting in front of him untouched.

Snap leaned back in his chair, scratching at his dark beard. “She’s probably just busy. Don’t you trust her?”

“I do, I just can’t shake this feeling there’s something really wrong,” Poe answered.

Two hours later, another text, this time from Rey, lit up his phone: Call me, it’s an emergency.

Rey’s British accented voice was hurried, “We were at work, she was stocking some books and started having this awful pain. It made her cry, she couldn’t even move. I was about to get her an Uber home when she passed out.”

“She’s home, right? She hasn’t been answering.”

“It was scary. And she couldn’t move from the pain—“ She explained.

Poe’s tone grew impatient, “Where?”

“We called an ambulance. I think it might be her appendix or something.”

Shuffling through the rest of the day, he chewed the inside of his cheek raw. He was halfway across the country, and his intensive training confided him to a tight schedule. Helpless to do anything but wait for news, he couldn’t even request leave until there was something to report.

————

The man behind the nurses station gave a blank look, his face lacking compassion like a plastic Halloween mask. Poe rushed straight from the airport to the hospital, watching the dim buildings of downtown rise up from the window of the Uber ride as he wrung his hands. Poe had waited long enough, but he paused a bit too long before answering, just enough for his eyes to rise beyond the computer monitor between them and cast a scrutinizing gaze at Poe. “Yeah. My wife. Can I see her?”

Foreign on his palate, the word ricocheted across the cold countertop and Poe instinctively brought his right hand to rest atop his left one to hide the fact that his ring finger was bare. Some lies had merit, a usefulness. The man dismissed Poe with a room number before he stopped, turning on his heel sharply on the reflective floor before going back to the same distant nurse. He hoped this one hadn’t been assigned to you, since he didn’t much care for that blasé attitude. “Wait- there any way I can speak to her doctor first? I have some questions.”

A few anxious minutes passed before the surgeon stopped him in the hall. She recognized that familiar look of stress and confusion so ubiquitous to the hospital.

Poe changed his flight come as soon as possible, and made it there on the day you were supposed to be discharged. The phone calls hadn’t clarified exactly what happened, thanks to the heavy pain medication you were on. He knew that something burst inside you and there was some kind of procedure and a transfusion- no details, no context.

“Sapling… ah?…”

“Salpingostomy,” Dr. Patel clarified, tucking a lock of thick hair behind her ear.

Standing in at the nurse’s station, Poe rubbed his temples and asked, “So, help me with this one more time. What caused the internal bleeding again?”

“Well, the rupture was caused by the ectopic pregnancy. We weren’t able to-“

Dr. Patel’s voice became muffled, the details of the surgery growing farther away then unintelligible. It felt like Poe was trapped underwater, listening to the world through a cushion of liquid and starving for air.

_Pregnancy?_

Pungent and stifling, the smell of antiseptic seemed to wrap around him as his lungs searched for air. No, no, this wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, wasn’t part of the plan. Heavy in his jacket pocket, the hinged box holding that rounded solitaire became a distraction. Poe’s fingernail scraped against the flocked surface in the same spot over and over, practically wearing it bald there.

He grimaced. It had been three months since you’d seen each other. With guilt, he wondered how many times you had tried to tell him, only to retreat from the subject when he brought up something trivial or made a dick joke.

Placing her hand on his shoulder, she warned that there was about a 25% chance of infertility, maybe more. There was a high risk of all this repeating, and the excessive bleeding could prove to be another dangerous complication if you conceived again.

As he listened, Poe’s heart felt like it deflated. He wanted a family with you very much- one day. He thought of ring in his pocket, purchased months ago, just tarnishing as he waited for the right time. Nodding his way through the conversation, he became distant, wondering what that meant for your future.

Stupefied, he stared at the door to your hospital room, so hesitant to find what emotions would erupt when he saw you. He wasn’t sure if he regretted passing himself off as your husband to the nurse or to your surgeon, but he needed to get a straight answer as soon as he arrived.

————

B.B. hadn’t stopped wagging his tail since Poe arrived. Every time he left the room, the little clicks of the terrier’s nails could be heard echoing across the tile floor of the duplex as he followed. The feeling was mutual.  
“I got you a smoothie,” Poe called from the kitchen, teasing a slice of ham out of the last bite of his sandwich for B.B.

Wrapped in one of his hoodies, you were half-watching a movie in the bedroom. You took in a sip of the tart drink to wash down another couple of pain pills. Although the medication made you nauseated, his scent of amber and leather was a welcome one. You breathed it in as he slid next to you in bed, setting your cup on the table. He laced his fingers in yours and crossed his legs.

Heaviness had settled between you in the short time Poe had been there. He was affectionate and thoughtful, but didn’t joke. Not even when he was uncomfortable, which was out of character. The flight training program was demanding, and he couldn’t be gone long without falling far behind. There was so much to share but you both tried to move through this healing process as if you didn’t just receive shocking news. He had to leave soon.

In the hospital you could only talk in technical terms. The laparoscopic incisions. The failure. Doctors going in ‘the hard way’ to stop the bleeding. The Fallopian tube that ended up in a medical waste incinerator. The transfusion. Matter-of-fact stuff.

Poe pressed a soft kiss into the back of your hand. He searched for your eyes, cast down furtively. “Okay, Corazón?”

“I didn’t know.”

He offered a subtle squint.

“I didn’t know… about the baby.”

Baby. A knife between his ribs would’ve been less painful than those two syllables and everything they represented. Gulping, Poe slowly formed a response while his thumb traced circles around your knuckle. “I was wondering about that.”

“Yeah… it was a shock to me, too.”

“I thought-“ He searched for the language to put it delicately, but it didn’t exist. “I thought you were on the pill?”

“I am. Sometimes it happens, though. And I didn’t realize it because of them. Everything seemed pretty normal, and I’ve been stressed with school… I dunno. That’s how it got so… big.”

The awkward choice of words conjured the same brutal emotional response that one would feel as they watched a bridge collapse.  
Eyes focused on a blank patch of wall, Poe’s body tensed beside you. He didn’t want to hear about how big the baby was. He couldn’t.

Part of you was terrified Poe was going to wall himself off again, this time while living in another state, so you didn’t dare say more.

Scooting closer, he kissed your forehead. There were no words, just contact as his chest cycled through a comforting loop of rise and fall, rise and fall. B.B.’s wet nose pressed against you as the pain medication started to blur the edges of your vision. You rested your head on Poe’s arm as sleep overtook you.

————-

Before Poe saw you for the first time in the hospital, Dr. Patel had slipped a business card into his hand, but he didn’t fish it out of his pocket until he was getting some coffee from the hospital cafeteria. Perinatology Department. Poe contemplated the words like a riddle and decided to sneak a cigarette before going back upstairs.

Air thick with moisture, the day was overcast. He quickly bummed a cigarette and regarded the grey parking lot, grey sky. It looked miserable, which was appropriate, he thought.

“She could’ve died, and I wasn’t here. And now I have to leave again while she’s recovering.” Poe explained to his aunt, gripping the edges of his phone with slightly trembling fingers.

“You’re smoking again.”

“Um, no?” Leia always spotted his lies with precision. He knew this, but wasn’t about to admit it.

“It wasn’t your fault. But you’re not going to abandon her again just ‘cause you’re upset. If you pull that shit Poe-”

“I’m not. I have to go back to Vance, but I’m not abandoning her.” The tone of his reply was more defensive than he intended, snapping out like a reflex.

“Talk to her. If you shut her out now, you lose her. Trust me on this.”

Contemplating her advice, Poe watched the valet sprint back and forth through the parking lot as he finished the bitter coffee.

“And stop smoking. It’s terrible,” Leia added after wishing you a swift recovery and saying goodbye to her nephew.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Not like this. He repeated it in his mind, an incantation to undo it all.

————-

For a moment, it was easy to forget that things were different. Your boyfriend was sprawled on top of the covers, still in his black jeans and a faded button-down. B.B. was tucked into the small gap between you. Normal. Until sharp pain from your abdominal incision reminded you it wasn’t.

Sighing, Poe turned and propped his head up when he realized you were awake. The curtains filtered in little light, so you weren’t sure how long you’d napped. Tears brimmed in his dark eyes, and his brow was creased with emotion.

“I want you to know, I’m not going anywhere.”  
You remained silent, a thousand thoughts caught in your mind.

“I made you a promise. I’m not going AWOL on you again.” Resting a hand on your cheek, he assured, “I’m in this.”

“And this? What is this?”

“Love,” he answered softly. Of course he thought it was a simple answer.

Together, you were mourning a life you didn’t know about until it had ended. Until it nearly ended your life, too. You didn’t even get to experience the joy, only sorrow. Was that love, too?

Poe wanted kids. He stooped down to ask kids what their favorite color was in the grocery store. It didn’t have to come up in conversation much to know becoming a father meant a lot to him.

“…What if I. What if we can’t,” your voice cracked.

“We’ll figure that out later. I just want you to be okay right now. You scared me.”

“I was scared.” You choked back tears. “My family- my dad acted like he didn’t see what the big deal was. He’s not coming. My mom is still in her own bubble somewhere.”

“You’re not alone, you have me.”

“You’re thirteen hundred miles away!” you hissed. Regret immediately snapped your mouth shut like a bear trap. Poe stayed quiet, gnawing the inside of his cheek again.

“I’m sorry. Babe, I’m sorry. I know you need to be there. I get it. I’m just… This brought up a lot of things for me.” You apologized, knowing Poe was already consumed by guilt. He had to leave tomorrow, which made it worse.

The prospect of being a mother was terrifying, your family was apathetic at best. Still, a loving sense of home and security was something you craved since you were little. You could envision that future with Poe, that maybe together you could built a foundation that wouldn’t splinter into a spiderweb of pain.  
His body softened and his arms drew around you. It was hard to focus on his weary eyes, his face so close.

“Five more months, then we’ll know where I get stationed.” He offered a weak smile and his nose brushed yours. “You’ll come with me this time?”

Sniffling, you nodded.

“I know it wasn’t supposed to go like this, but you have me.”


	8. Counting Constellations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still healing after the ectopic pregnancy, you and Poe enjoy an unconventional date, connecting over past and future.

It took you a while to trust him, trust that it was safe to lean into the curves when your instinct was to jerk away from an angle so close the road. Reassuring, Poe’s stomach  was taut and warm as you wrapped your hands around, pressing your chest into his back. The night wind rushing past you felt invigorating as the motorcycle hugged the curves along the waterfront street. It wasn’t scary to lean into the curves anymore.

Poe’s voice was muffled through his helmet, “Almost there.”

The vintage Ducati came to a rest in front of a wooden fishing pier, which stretched long and empty into the harbor. The businesses on the street had been closed for hours, the street quiet and dark. Unruly curls reached in every direction when Poe removed his helmet. He’d gotten you a matching one, after realizing his was too big for you to borrow. Black, with double vermillion racing stripes set off-center and a yellow-tinted visor. Although thoughtful, wearing matching helmets when you went for rides with him made you feel like a set of matching salt and pepper shakers. Poe was definitely the pepper to your salt.

“This? A pier?” you questioned, dismounting the bike. Your legs still felt like they were vibrating.

His eyes narrowed. “Why are you so skeptical?”

“I’m a scientist. You can’t turn it off.” You shrugged, sliding a small backpack off your shoulders.

Poe pulled you close with a flirtatious grin. “I can turn you on, though.”

“That was terrible.” You pecked him on the mouth. “So Casanova, what are you going to show me?”

Carrying the backpack, Poe embraced your hand and guided a path toward the pier. The planks were slightly warped from the saltwater, creaking as you walked. A subtle glow illuminated the outline of the city on either side, but straight ahead the water met the night sky uninterrupted. As the end of the pier came into focus, you realized there was nothing there. No bench, no shelter, not even a little shade for the fisherman. It was just a row of planks leading out into the sea. This is what he picked, as your first actual date in months? You were dubious.

“Ummmm…” you started to question. He set the bag down and flashed a devilish smile.  
He nodded toward a small rectangular silver platform next to the pier. It was anchored securely to the wooden supports with large metal links, bobbing gently in the waves. Caution signs flanked either side of the pier’s opening to it.

“It’s a floating boat dock,” Poe explained as he reached into the bag. “I wanna show you something.”

A smile swept across Poe’s face as he pulled out a small blanket, Tupperware container with some fruit and crackers, and a couple of cans of soda. The contents of the backpack had been a surprise to you, and something else was still hidden inside. He smoothed the blanket out on the aluminum platform and held out his hand, inviting you to join him. As stepped, a small wave lapped against the side of the pier and sent the small dock into a wobble. When your face twisted in anxiety, he steadied your balance.

“I’ve got you. Don’t worry, we’re not gonna float out to sea,” Poe assured with a small chuckle.

He rolled his leather jacket into a pillow for your head, and motioned for you to join. Sighing, he laid back, lacing his hands behind his head. You cautiously scooted beside him and stretched out. The metal platform wasn’t that wide, a little larger than a king size bed. A vast expanse of night sky was your ceiling, punctuated by glittering stars and a slim, golden moon. There wasn’t a cloud, as far as you could see, and the air was crisp and sharp with salt.

“Wow!”

“Thought you might like that.” He grinned, kissing you on the temple before looking back up into the dense sky. “Hermosa…” _Gorgeous_.

The gentle rocking of the dock paired with the panoramic view of the glittering sky, and made you feel like you were floating. Contented, Poe breathed in the scent of your hair as you nestled into his side, just one of the many small things he’d been missing since he’d begun his flight training halfway across the country. Scattered across the inky sky, the stars inspired a sense of awe that forced one to question their place in the universe, your cosmic purpose. The sight of the distant shimmering dots humbled you both, and you lay in silence admiring their beauty as the dock gently bounced and jostled with the waves.

“I wish we could stay,” Poe said, interrupting the silence and turning on his side to you. His eyes were shards of obsidian in the dim moonlight.

“Where ever you’re stationed, we’ll make it work. I just want to be together again. This year has been… beyond hard.”

His lips pressed to yours lovingly, delicately. Caressing your neck, he agreed, “Yeah… It’s going to get better soon, though.”

Reaching into the bottom of the backpack, he pulled out a set of heavy, military-issued binoculars. “I found these in my dad’s stuff. They aren’t his legit Special Forces ones or anything but they’re decent. I think he got them surplus.”

Celestial shapes came into beautiful focus. “Oh, Poe. The crescent moon! She’s lovely!”

“Do you see that bright yellow one?”

“Wait, this one?” You pointed vaguely.

“The brighter one. Is it twinkling?”  
You shook your head, no it was steady. “What is it?”

“Jupiter.”

After peering at it for a few moments, you dropped the binoculars into your lap, as he smiled warmly and cracked a can of soda open. “Are you bullshitting me?”

“How come you never trust me?! It really is. Saturn is the other yellow one.”

Reaching over to steal a sip, you asked, “Is that some kind of pilot thing? Like how sailors navigate by the stars?”

Poe scratched at the stubble dusting his jaw. The memory was pristine and clear, he hadn’t recalled it in at least a decade. He always associated the heavens with her on some subconscious level, but it was more about her keen interest and less about her death. Always comforted when looking up at the stars, though he didn’t quite understand why. “In a way. My mom taught me.”

 _*_  
_Shara wore a white blouse with dirty jeans, her bouncy curls wrangled in a low ponytail. She kneeled in front of Poe, and swiveled the eyepiece of the telescope toward herself. “Little early to be stargazing, buddy.”_

_“Mom! What’s that one again? The big white one.”_

_She laughed and rested her face against the soft rubber. “Near the horizon right? Low?”_

_“Yeah… I forgot which one that was.” Cicadas buzzed loudly from every tree on the ranch and the sky hadn’t transitioned completely to night yet. Shara wiped a smear of dirt from his cheek as he pulled away from the eyepiece._

_“Venus. Remember? She’s very bright white and never seen late at night”_

_Poe squinted at his mom, a front tooth missing from his oversized smile. Repeating the rhyme to himself, he took control of the telescope again._  
_*_

“Babe! That’s so sweet.” As you lingered over his lips, his espresso eyes opened, rich with nostalgia and happiness. His mother was an incredible person, and she and his father were very much in love. The love he felt for you burned just as strong as any supernova. Gravity felt suspended as you both lay on your backs under the blanket of stars. The small dock shifted under you, the harbor’s waves periodically breached by a splashing fish. Passing the binoculars back and forth, you talked about the myths behind a few constellations. Poe pointed to a red dot, Mars.

Eventually, you just lay there under the heavens, quiet. The side of your body was settled up against his warmth, your head resting on the crumpled jacket. Occasionally your hand would graze the cold aluminum platform exposed at the blanket’s edge, causing you to inch even closer. Looking up at the veil of stars had always made you a little melancholy, something about feeling small in the grand, cosmic scheme of life. Tonight you felt close to them, united by an unseen force.

“Hey. Think we can add a couple constellations?”

“People just made them up to begin with, so why not? Where?”

Your index finger stretched straight out, drawing in the midnight sky with sweeping finger strokes. “Maybe here…”

“What is it?”

“A plane. For your mom. And we can draw a bigger one next to it, for you. Big Dipper, Little Dipper. She would be so proud of you. I am.”

Poe pulled your body up onto his, and his eyes bore into yours as his chest lifted you up and down faintly. He wasn’t sure if his heart was breaking or swelling as it strained within. The past year had been one of the hardest of his life, from the relentless demands of flight school, to being stationed in Oklahoma while you were finishing your degreee in Florida, and finally to the surprise ectopic pregnancy that cost the life of the baby and almost your own. He couldn’t earn his wings fast enough, to put this all behind. Four more months.

Examining your dainty features for a few silent moments, a sudden thought spilled over in his mind. “Ever wonder if it was a boy or a girl?”

Sometimes, most of the time, thinking of the baby blindsided him emotionally. Not now. It seemed natural to talk about it now, as he thought about his parents. It still hurt to talk about the pregnancy, both your physical and emotional wounds still raw under a thin veneer of initial healing. The stages of grief weren’t linear and you kept being tossed between them like a ship in a storm. This was the first time the baby’s sex had been talked about and you wanted to look away, but his those obsidian eyes drew you in closer.

“Yes, I wonder every day.”

Brushing away a ribbon of your hair that had fallen into his face, his serious expression faded into a gentle smile like clouds softly dissipating after a hurricane. It didn’t make the storm any less damaging when the clouds left, but it did bring a feeling of relief. Dare say, it also brought hope. You nodded, pressure mounting at the edges of your eyes, ready to release a stream of emotion. 

Knowing you were on the verge of crying, Poe kissed you delicately again, then cradled your head to his sternum. Rough fingers wove through the silky strands of your hair, gradually fading until Poe was motionless, save for the rise and fall of his breath. It seemed he was asleep until he leaned up slightly, fiddling with a pocket. Taking your hand, he connected with your eyes and spoke your name, softly. The salty breeze tossed his hair around in every direction, but his deep eyes fixed on you lovingly. He sighed.

“I’m so glad to be here.”

“I’m glad to be here with you, too,” you echoed. Another wave broke against the dock with a jostle. By here, you knew what he meant. Here. Wherever. Together.

“I want to be with you- you’re my everything, you know? And I wanna be with you for good. You trust me?”

A ring slipped onto a finger on your left hand. Under you, it felt like the dock had finally broken free of gravity completely. A rounded stone sparkled in the pale moonlight as you lay stunned by the sudden addition. Your heart surged as you looked at Poe’s smile. His face could barely contain it, his eyes crinkling.

“For good, Poe. I trust you.” You nodded through tear-filled eyes. “And you’re my everything, too.”


	9. Turbulence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe finds out you've been keeping a secret from him, and he's pissed.

“What else have you been keeping from me?!”

A hot tear trickled down Poe’s chin, white knuckles aching from the desperate grip around the slim phone. Silence.

“Answer me!” he demanded. Trying to regain composure, his eyes pinched shut and he sucked on his teeth. “I just- I can’t even talk to you right now,” he spat before pressing to end the call. Grabbing his keys, he slammed the front door and stomped down the hall of the housing unit at Vance. It was late already but there would be classwork in the morning, no immediate flights. Besides that, Poe had already made up his mind.

“Who wants to get fucking wasted?” he yelled to no one in particular, making his way to the bar on-base.

——

_With drooping eyes, she lowered herself to your bed level. It was patronizing. All your attention was immediately diverted to your plastic ID bracelet, as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating object in the world. Dr. Patel had seen this response to loss before, many times. “I understand this is a lot to take in.”_

_What an understatement. Things were pretty normal until one minute you were at work, doubled over in agony. A stack of bestsellers fell from your arms dramatically, customers of the campus bookstore rushing to your side. The next somewhat-clear memory, you were coming out of surgery to learn that you had been pregnant and trying to figure out where to go from there. Shock overtook you, confusion as to how that could possibly be true when you took birth control with the reliability of a Switch watch, every morning just before brushing your teeth._

_“As you know, we weren’t able to save the baby. Science hasn’t yet given us the means to transfer ectopic pregnancies to the womb. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”_

_“It’s okay,” you mumbled. Pain increased in your abdomen as she spoke, the medication had begun to fade. You winced and wondered if you would be able to get that catheter out today so you could walk to the bathroom. The full gravity of situation hadn’t taken a hold of you yet. You were still grasping at the last bit of denial, focusing on the little inconveniences of the hospital stay instead of the big picture. The big picture was too hard to see right now, like the Magic Eye optical illusions you collected as a child. Seeing them required softening your eyes, taking a step back, being open to whatever was there. Those weren’t things you were able to do yet._

_Although he had been there for a day already, you and Poe still hadn’t discussed the surprise of the pregnancy. It remained like a phantom looming unseen, watching as he handed you a cup of Jell-O and fell alseep in the chair next to the bed, his hand falling from yours limply. You dare not speak its name, afraid the very walls would crumble under its supernatural power._

_Poe knew, of this you were certain. He knew a fallopian tube had been removed and that you had multiple units of blood transfused before you had a chance to tell him in person, so of course he was told everything by a staff member. The image of his lip quivering as he woke you when he arrived to your bedside would stay with you, burned into your memory. Exhausted, clouded eyes met yours and you wept together in silence intermittently broken by the beep of machinery._

_“I had a question for you and your husband.”_

_Poe had nearly been blocked by a nurse when he arrived the morning after the surgery, and since the patient privacy laws didn’t allow for disclosure to boyfriends, he told a white lie. You went with it, despite thinking the lack of rings would be a dead give-away. Either none of the staff cared, or they noticed that none of your actual family had come to your side, despite it being a close brush with mortality. Maybe they pitied you both and always let policy slide when it came to matters like this._

_“Yes?” After much convincing, Poe had finally ventured to the cafeteria for some coffee. Eyes sunken and hair a cyclone of dirty waves, he hadn’t slept or showered since landing in Tampa. You were pretty sure he was also sneaking a cigarette, but you decided you wouldn’t give him a hard time about it. “You can ask me now.”_

_Dr. Patel looked uncomfortable, then shrugged. “A lot of couples like to know the sex of the baby after a loss like this. Would you like to know?”_

_This was too vivid, a nightmare that kept descending farther into pain. No. You didn’t plan for this, and neither one of you were in a situation where this could’ve easily worked, had the egg implanted where it was meant to. But now that you knew, it hurt. Just that idea of a child with Poe’s dark eyes and your smile made you ache. Knowing if it was a boy or a girl would only make the what-if’s more vivid. A baby boy’s mouth dropped open in fascination, propped up on your lap while Poe strummed a lullaby on the black Gibson. A baby girl’s cackling laugh as Poe held her overhead, making engine noises as he gave her a taste of what flight felt like._

_Why would you want to know, so you could make a mental list of names that baby could’ve had? So you could imagine the letters of that name stretched out over a a string of triangle flags above a crib?_

_Your throat became parched and you croaked, “You… could tell?”_

——-

Crunching down on a granola bar, Poe’s hand was poised over the call button. He wasn’t over his night of drinking yet, and it wasn’t your number.

“Are you really going to call me every time there’s drama in your relationship?” a groggy female voice answered. “What time is it?”

“I think it’s… seven? Seven where you are? It’s six here in Oklahoma.”

“Christ. Get to it already.” Leia snapped at her nephew.

“I’m sorry, you’re the only one I can talk to about things like this.”

“Lucky me.”

Leia was like his conscience in a way. Guidance with a sharp tongue and a warm heart, Poe always sought out the wisdom of his Aunt when life became hard to navigate. He did this even when Kes was alive, often calling Leia before his own dad when he had an issue he needed to work out. Yes, he would eventually tell his dad about it, but usually when it was already in the process of resolution.

Kes hadn’t been a man who worried outwardly, his war-weathered body didn’t agree with bouncing legs or pacing. But Poe noticed things about his dad, tells. One was the way his cheek puckered when he’d gnaw into the inside of it, Kes did this when his son was set to take the ASVAB. When Poe enlisted as an engineer, another tell peeked through his calm exterior: picking his cuticles. The dry skin around his nails were chewed and peeled and gouged as the days counted down. Whether he wanted to admit it or not- and he never would to Poe- he was anxious awaiting his son to start BMT, to be stationed far from the comforting jacaranda trees of Valdosta, to wait for his shot at piloting.

Poe now noticed those traits within himself, the cheek gnawed raw and the cuticles picked pink, scalloping the edges of his short fingernails. His father’s son, through and through- but he was also his aunt’s nephew. Leia raised him too, passing on a barbed sense of humor and the patience to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare of getting into the pilot training. Grateful as he was to his Aunt, Poe wished he could talk to his dad. He needed Kes now.

Poe explained to his aunt about how, after the surgery, the doctor had asked if you wanted to know what sex the baby was. How you knew that he wanted to know. How he _specifically_ said he wanted to know. When you mentioned it to him, many weeks later, it pulverized his heart. You’d kept it secret.

This pregnancy was like a concept, a theory he couldn’t wrap his head around. Neither one of you was even aware of the life growing inside you until it was already gone, so there were no memories. No joyful announcement. No hearbeat fluttering on a Doppler. No swelling belly to push his ear against. No crying in the baby section of Target because the tiny clothes were just so cute and this was really happening. No memorial. No biodegradable lanterns released into the sky. Just a strange, hollow sadness in knowing that something half Poe and half you had existed, briefly, without your knowledge.

“What was it? Does she know?” Leia asked.

Rant interrupted, he paused. “She told the doctor she didn’t want to. Never found out.”

“Can you blame the girl? Love and loss, finding out that way…”

Poe’s tone was impatient, “I’m mad that she kept a secret and didn’t allow me to find out. All she had to do was ask. She kept it from me.” He paced the room as he talked, gesturing wildy although he was alone. “I told her I wanted to know, the night I proposed we talked about it. And now she’s just telling me we could’ve known all along. It’s fucked.”

“Language.” She chided. It brought him back to his childhood for a fraction of a second, just long enough to make him flinch involuntarily. Again, in his stress, Poe peeled a stripe of dry skin from directly next to the nail bed. Too long. It began to sting, the timing strange as if Leia had a little voo-doo doll of him to punish.

“I’m calling the hospital. It’ll be in her chart. They already think we’re married.”

“So, lying now?”

“That was what I needed to do at the time, yeah,” Poe shot back, the volume of his voice raising in irritation. Getting ready for the day, he stepped into his mottled print ABU pants, the phone pinned between his ear and shoulder as he spoke.

“Is it absolutely necessary to go behind her back to find out? She came clean, so it must’ve been weighing on her conscience.” Leia continued. Her voice was soft again, trying to help him understand. “There are different ways of dealing with pain, Poe. Don’t add to hers.”

——

Grief still climbed over everything in your life, an invasive vine with deep roots. It was incredible how much you could mourn for someone you had no idea existed until they were already gone. Moving through grief with the added burden of hurting your fiancé was disorienting, and you cursed yourself for the mistake.

Fighting with Poe was nothing new. He was thoughtful and loyal, but stubborn. It wasn’t unusual to clash over inconsequential things around the house, just like any couple, but the aftermath of this was a whole different animal. Peace offerings after a fight usually included something like resting your hand between his bare shoulder blades as he brushed his teeth, or grabbing him an iced coffee on your way home. Options for restoring normalcy were limited with him being so far away.

Rey slapped her hand on a shoulder, drawing you out of your thoughts as your exhausting shift at the USF campus bookstore wound to a close. “You okay?”

“Poe and I… I messed up.”

Her brows knit it concern. “No! What happened?”

Rey nodded and lifted her sinewy arms to hang up an apron in the break room. She tried to follow as you launched into an emotional explanation of what happened the night before, the admission and the yelling. The way you wrapped a protective blanket of silence around yourself when he asked you why. “We haven’t talked since. He told me he couldn’t. Hasn’t called me or texted all day.”

She frowned, searching for a way to comfort you. “My place is a mess, but do you wanna come over?”

——-

Purple bags settled under Poe’s eyes. A sad looking BLT, limp lettuce overhanging the edges of the bread, sat next to him on a bed of unfurled parchment paper. Although he had sat down over ten minutes prior, it still remained untouched. Instead, his knees were drawn up nearly to his chest as he sat under a tree outside the housing unit. He needed to be outside, not closed in by a fortress of drywall. Camping had always offered a bit of perspective for him, the familiar weight of hiking boots and the sound of blue jays offering a bit of peace so he could work things out. And if he couldn’t go for a hike, he’d take the old ‘74 Ducati, finding a comfort in the curve of road ahead. Neither one was an option at Vance.

“You look like shit, Dameron.” Snap strode up beside him. 

“Thanks for that, buddy. Really. I appreciate a good compliment.”

“What’s your deal?” Snap asked, lowering himself down onto the patch of crabgrass. Poe had been obviously preoccupied, compartmentalizing his emotions briefly during pre-flight checks and briefings with a stoic, uncharacteristically grumpy expression before Snap watched that exterior shatter when it came time to break for lunch. Poe slipped away quietly, no banter as they compared notes on how their flights went. 

“Relationship,” Poe muttered.

Absorbed in his phone, Poe hadn’t looked up since Snap joined him. It vibrated in his pocket earlier, but he was disappointed to find it was only Finn tagging him in a meme. Two nights more had passed since your fight, the silence from your end of the line thick and acidic, still burning in his mind. He’d called you selfish, cold. You’d called him sentimental, told him there was no point in knowing. Poe could hear the pain you tried to mask, but you didn’t waver when he pushed. It wouldn’t change anything, you insisted when he yelled, accusing you of robbing him of some small thing to grab onto. The sting was even more painful considering the multiple times I’d mentioned that he’d lie in bed alone, imagining what could have been.

The baby was just as much his, and he deserved to know.

“Long distance is brutal. So. She cheated?” Snap ventured cautiously.

Poe’s dark eyes shot up in a glare, defensive. “It’s not like that. It’s… complicated, I guess.”

“Look, all I know is you were yelling and banging on my door the other night, drunk. And you haven’t been right since.” Snap pointed at Poe. It was time for some of that Texan tough love. “Better get right, my friend. You’re gonna fuck up if you keep mopeing around, and the acceptable window for fucking up around here closed long ago.”

Poe let his knees drop, stretching back under the shade of the tree. Snap was right. Poe was a professional and could power through his training, but the truth was that he was a wreck. He regret calling you selfish. He regret not calling to check in for two days. The two Airmen sat in a quiet understanding for some time before Snap unwrapped his own sandwich and they ate together in the grass.

After thanking Snap for his concern, Poe went back to his small dormitory and realized it would be about another hour before you got out of class. Stomach was still in knots, and he took a shot of Patrón to quell it before propping his phone up on table. Time to get right.

——

Flinging your laptop bag into the car, you let out a groan, exasperated by the long lecture and the fact that Poe hadn’t called all day. At this point, you weren’t even sure how to apologize, or how he would react. Your hand wrapped around the steering wheel, and the solitaire on your left hand gleamed. You contemplated it a minute before dipping a hand inside your purse to retrieve your phone and turn the ringer back on.

On your lock screen was a photo of Poe and B.B., your fiance’s nose nuzzling against the terrier’s cheek at the dog park. You missed him, terribly. And each mile of distance between you felt doubled in the wake of your argument. One new message. Poe sent a video, no caption.

“So… uhh… I wanted to say sorry. I’m sorry I was so mean and yelled at you.” Poe spoke, sitting on the edge of the bed in his room at Vance. He was still wearing his ABUs, not civilian clothes. While it wasn’t very close up, you could see the exhaustion and stress etched over his brow, even more so than usual. Guilt snaked around your chest, worried that Poe might be falling behind due to stress over your fight- or worse, that he was losing sleep then climbing into the cockpit.

“You didn’t deserve that, we should’ve just talked.” He picked up the acoustic guitar propped on the floor next to his bare feet.

“Here’s a song that reminds me of the night at the pier. I know you like this one.” Poe began to strum the guitar gently, his gravely voice soft and low. Music was easier than words.

_And don’t the moon way up high shine bright  
Well it sure shines bright to me_

_And don’t the lips on your lips feel good  
Well they sure feel good to me_

As his fingers strummed the last chord, he leaned toward the camera again, a heartfelt look in his weary eyes. “Please call me. I love you.” He reached and flipped the phone around to turn it off, blurring the video a moment before it ended. Hitting play again and again, you bit back tears fighting to break free.

“Hey, Corazón. Get your song?”

Your throat was thick with emotion, “Yeah, I did. You’re not allowed to use anything on Cripple Crow against me. It’s manipulative.”

Poe laughed quietly, “Sorry, I had to. I know what you listen to when you’re upset.”

“You know me too well… I miss you.”

“I’m sorry I talked to you that way. I didn’t mean to accuse you of lying about anything; It was a dick move,” he spoke into the phone as he stared up the imperfections on the ceiling.

“It was a girl.”

Poe’s heart plummeted like it was dropped down a mine shaft. “You called, or--?”

“Yeah, yesterday. The doctor said she actually always keeps it in the file, because this happens more often than one would assume.”

“Thank you. I know you didn’t--“

You broke in, “I didn’t lie. That night, when I told you that I wondered about it. I just thought it would be re-salting the wound. Rey helped me understand that instead of helping you move on, I was denying you closure.”

Poe made a mental note to thank Rey later. “Something like that. Yeah. Do you feel worse knowing? I didn’t want to force you to live with that knowledge.”

“I don’t know yet. Do you feel better?”

“Actually no. Feels like someone just stabbed me and I’m bleeding out,” Poe’s voice caught on a tripwire as he allowed himself to imagine, for the briefest moment, the daughter he lost. A little girl who wrinkled her nose when she laughed and who loved science, like you. A little girl who might’ve looked to the sky and asked where her Daddy was flying today, the same way Poe asked where his mother was. “But I’m grateful.”

—


	10. I'm Always Duckie

Distance had a way of stretching and amplifying emotions in a way that Poe could never have foreseen. From the ectopic pregnancy to the engagement to the fight, it reminded Poe of being knocked around the cockpit when hitting a patch of turbulence. Things would settle down for a while, then he’d suddenly feel his stomach drop 20 feet below, his body catching up with his gut at least a full 3 seconds later. He didn’t fear it outright but it was still disorienting.

Stepping off the escalator, his weary eyes scanned for the closest bathroom. He splashed cold water onto his face along with the other travelers at the sinks. Poe took in a sharp inhalation and studied himself in the mirror to see if he looked as exhausted as he felt. Usually he wore his ABUs on the flight home, but this time he was in a pair of black joggers, a hoodie and pair of Adidas. His dense curls were just on the verge of being out of code, temporarily uneven from one side behind compressed while he slept during the flight from Oklahoma. Running a wet hand through them, Poe hoped to revive that side before meeting you at the curbside pickup. 

Being there physically with you for two or three days always quelled something deep within you both. It felt right, soothing. Poe needed that after the fight, especially after being forced to miss your graduation. The lessons were becoming more and more challenging lately, long days of flights and briefings and memorizing pages upon pages of boldface. Your graduation from had landed on a mandatory flight weekend, and although Poe carried a lot of guilt for not being able to celebrate with you, you insisted that he simply focus on the work. Piloting was what he was born to do.

Clutching a bouquet of saffron-colored calla lillies, a botanical apology of sorts, Poe moved through the terminal he'd become so familiar with over his time in the UPT program. A smile spread across his face as your car came into view, and he straightened his shoulders. Some of that strange weight lifted as your eyes met.

Leaning across the front seat, Poe crushed you with a hug immediately and breathed in the familiar scent of your skin. The driver behind you honked in annoyance, and Poe shook his head. Maybe he should’ve worn the ABUs after all, because everyone at the airport always tended to be much kinder when they knew he was a homecoming airman. He tossed the bouquet onto the backseat along with his worn duffel bag.

Magnetic hands refused to leave yours as you drove back to the duplex. Kisses here, a squeeze there. Physical touch helped reconfirm that yes, he was here. He would always come back. Poe's time in Oklahoma was coming to a close, and this would be his last visit before returning to Tampa to help pack up your belongings in preparation for the move to his next base.

”You look... tired,” you noted at a stop sign. Poe nodded, he'd been pushing himself for weeks with little rest. You recognized that stubborn nature because it was something you shared.

”You look beautiful. And smarter,” Poe answered, slipping your right hand into his before softly kissing the back of it.

 

——

“I never went to prom,” you admitted.

His thick eyebrows raised, “Really? You’ll have to Molly Wringwald it, then. You know, Pretty In Pink style.”

“I’m not sewing my own dress, thank you very much!”

“I mean, wear something nice. It’s not like we’re doing some big thing but I want it to feel special.” Poe smiled and twirled a strand of your hair lazily around his index finger. The back of your head rested in his lap, legs up and feet hanging off the back of the couch. B.B. was sprawled out on what little space was left on the adjacent cushion, white belly adorably revealed for Poe to occasionally scratch. It was getting late, but he was too comfortable with you laying across him to move. 

“Hmmm… So, does that mean you’re Duckie?”

“Of course, I’m always Duckie! Dude was stylish as Hell. He had those-“

“Wait. She ended up with that rich kid,” you interrupted.

“Pssssht! Everyone knows they got together after the movie.” He retorted, playing putting his palm over your face to shut you up.

“What’s the plan for Drop Night?”

“Oh, you don’t have to come for that. It’s a bunch of zoomies and squids getting trashed, so you’re not missing anything.”

“Doesn’t that happen every weekend for some of those guys,” you joked before examining him. “You’re nervous about this. Wait, which are you nervous about- the wedding or Drop Night?”

He’d been counting down the days ‘til Drop Night for weeks, a tradition where the flight program trainees learned what aircraft they were assigned and where they would be stationed first as pilots. It was just before they officially earned their wings. This was the sprint to the finish line, finally visible after spending his entire adult life chasing it. Being this close was strange; Poe craved those silver wings, had imagined the feeling of them being pinned onto his chest so many times it was familiar, more like a memory than an aspirational vision he'd carried since childhood. 

Deep down, Poe was wishing for a fighter assignment. It was rare to be chosen for this immediately out of the Undergraduate Pilot Training, but it was known to happen occasionally for an exceptional student. Exceptional was one way to describe Poe, his instructors and classmates regularly slack-jawed at how intuitively he handled the aircraft, fingers rarely hesitating over the controls either in the air or on a simulator. Hands-down, he was the best aerobatic student in his class, although he maintained a friendly rivalry with Snap. Rolls and hammerheads somehow came naturally for him, and Poe never wavered during the maneuvers, intentionally stalling a single wing to send the jet into a descending corkscrew without a trace of fear. Poe Dameron seemed born to dogfight. It wasn't that he craved a conflict or the power of destruction- he wanted to be at the forefront of something meaningful, if he was needed. He believed in intervening when something was unjust, and his parents always taught him that it's important to stand on the right side of history with action just as much as intention. Although you knew he was captivated by stories of aerial battles, whether fictional or historical, Poe chose not to share this with you exactly. It was unspoken, understood.

Poe flashed his teeth sheepishly. “Well it’s the deciding factor of what happens for at least the next four years. Or longer.”

“And the wedding? Er, elopement or whatever we’re calling it now?”

Poe leaned down to kiss you from above. “I’m not stressing over that. That actually solves stress.”

Browsing the magazine section of the bookstore the following afternoon, Poe waited for your shift to end. You felt terrible about being forced to work during the short time he was in town, even threatening to quit over it because you had requested the weekend off in advance. Poe took it in stride, dropping you off at work before heading out for some pancakes with Finn. He paused in front of the bridal section, staring at the waifs in couture wedding gowns with a furrowed brow. Although you had never mentioned a fairy tale scenario and didn’t seem like the type who began planning her fantasy wedding in elementary school, Poe was still nervous to ask how you felt about a very small, meaningful ceremony. It felt sleazy to ask something like that.

You wouldn’t qualify for on-base housing until you were married, and that could be problematic if he was chosen to go overseas. Poe felt conflicted, and didn’t know how to bring it up properly during the short visit.

———-

“Thank you for everything.”

Finn shrugged, motioning to the bartender. “Yeah, dude. Don’t mention it.”

“I’m serious. I was losing my mind worrying about her. You’re a good friend.” Poe had a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. He was getting sentimental already, and it wasn’t the alcohol. Finn helping you out during your recovery after the surgery meant a lot to him, especially given that your family was useless when it came to any sort of caring behavior. They had been friends and roommates since he was first stationed at MacDill, and although Poe became good friends with Snap at Vance, his relationship with Finn was special. The guy was too modest, too nice.

Poe’s deep-set eyes lingered on you, laughing with Rey and Rose. The incandescent lights strung over the brewery patio cast a glow on your skin. The buzz of late-summer cicadas competed with the music. You bent down to adjust the orange and white harness across B.B.’s chest, and scratched behind his floppy ear. It was a relief to see you healthy again after the harrowing experience with the pregnancy. Poe had tried to stop himself from being overly protective during his last visit, when he brought you to the floating docks to propose, and had done a mostly good job of it. Now, seeing your eyes dance as you looped an arm around Rey, he found that instinct had faded. You were going to be alright, somehow managing to carry yourself with poise despite the recent trauma and newfound grief. He looked on with a small smile, admiring the strength and resilience that you likely didn't even realize existed. 

“We’re gonna make you look so hot,” Rey giggled.

“-Not that you aren’t already.” Rose broke in as she bent down to pet B.B. “But let’s take it up a notch.”

You blushed and agreed to let them take you shopping for a dress to wear to the Drop Night party. Poe insisted that you stay home, especially since he had to fly the weekend of your graduation and miss it. He felt horrible, and didn’t want you to spend the money. Little did he know, you were already scheming to surprise him at Vance; Rey and Rose were in on it. Your girlfriends knew how rough it had been for you all year, with the demands of your thesis and Poe being away. They thought you deserved something memorable, and it was good timing since you were on an upswing with the wedding and his graduation on the horizon.

Bringing back two glasses from the bar, Poe beamed at you. His hair was cut much shorter on the sides now. It was a change, but he looked handsome and you enjoyed the texture when you skimmed your fingertips across its more blunt length. Your mouth puckered in disgust as soon as the liquid touched your tongue. “What. Is. That.”

Finn’s face lit up with an open smile. He truly delighted in see you get grossed out. Poe took a sip and his eyes shoot from side to side, analyzing the beer. “It’s not bad”.

“That’s the most bitter thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“It’s some IPA… I don’t remember the name.”

“Ugh. I’m gonna grab something else. That’s not happening,” you dismissed yourself to the bar and Rose joined you.

Leaning in your ear, she asked if you were okay. You tilted your head in confusion.

“It’s a lot all at once. An engagement. Finishing your Master’s. Moving to who-knows-where suddenly.”

“Yeah. It’s giving me some massive anxiety, but this has been a long time coming. Somehow, we’re both scheduled to graduate within a month of each other. I’m going to be so relieved to finally get his assignment. Then we can rest.”

“I don’t see how you’re functioning right now.”

You gestured to the glass of beer in your hand and she chuckled in understanding.

“You know… I called it,” Rose smirked as she left a twenty on the counter for the drinks. “We’ve had a pool going for a while now for when Poe would finally propose. I won, so your drink's on me.”

Your eyes searched for your fiance through the window of the brewery. Poe and Finn were turned to each other, lip syncing the chorus of the song filtering through the speakers overhead. It looked like they were buzzed already. Rey’s eyes were round with a blend of embarrassment and amusement as she turned and knocked back the last of her beer. Watching them, your heart ached a little. An ease, a sense of belonging came with this friendship. Even your own blood family couldn’t offer that, the closest thing to affection being late-night calls asking for money that turned abusive when you would decline. Leaving your parents behind when you came to USF wasn’t emotional- they had been detached from you emotionally for some time.

Poe would likely be stationed far away, but these friends meant the world to you both. This core group of kind, funny, positive people really enriched your lives and acted as surrogate family. Finn and Rose were the ones who binge watched Stranger Things with you- for the second time- after your surgery. Rey was the one who took you to impromptu beach trips on days Poe was working, laughing at the fire-juggling street performers who always flirted with her on the boardwalk. If it wasn’t for these people, you wouldn’t even have met him.

Poe’s arm wrapped around you, squeezing your shoulders as he planted an exaggerated kiss on your cheek when you and Rose returned to the patio. B.B. hopped into his lap, the little white terrier eager for affection.

“I can’t wait to make you Mrs. Dameron” he whispered into your ear. “Soon, amor.”

A small smile crept up your lips, and you took a sip of your drink. Soon enough, the chaos would settle.


	11. Check Ride- NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe’s in the final stretch of flight school and you pay him a surprise visit. Sex! Emotions! Sex!

Snap and Poe peered into the box, the knife still poised above the flap. The contents had become pulverized in transit, unrecognizable.

“She overnighted you a box of sand. _Huh_. Is that some weird Florida thing?”

Poe licked the tip of his index finger and dipped it in, bringing it to his mouth gingerly. He’d recognize that taste anywhere. He hooked a finger in the corner of the box and slid it across the table. Without warning, he tilted it up and dumped a stream of crumbs into his mouth. Snap watched in amusement, shaking his head.

Through a mouthful of dust, Poe explained, “Mazzaro’s. These are my favorite almond cookies, from this little place my girl loves. Well. I guess they used to be cookies.”

——

“Hmmm. Kinda skanky on, isn’t it?”

“A touch,” Rey agreed as Rose choked back a giggle at your bluntness. Retreating back into the dressing room, you unzipped the metallic dress. This was the fifth dress you’d tried on and already you were dreading more.

“He seemed kinda off when he mentioned it the first time. But it’s a huge night for him, you know?” you shouted over the poppy baseline permeating the Forever 21.

Rose took a sip of her latte and tilted her head, “Bigger than… getting married?”

“Not bigger, different. We know what we’re getting when we get married. There’s no surprise there. Drop Night, well, he’s at the mercy of the service completely. He could use the support.”

“Why didn't he come to your graduation, again? Doesn’t he get free flights?” Rey asked, the annoyance in her tone thinly masked.

“He wasn't allowed to take any time off, and this late in the program they make him train on Saturdays too. It’s like thirteen hour days, six days a week. It would be silly for him to travel all this way for a few hours- he kept insisting but I said no. It’s cool.”

Rey’s lips pressed together tightly, understanding the circumstances but still feeling empathy for you. Your Master’s degree, years in the making, and the person you loved most wasn’t by your side when that coveted piece of paper was finally in your hands.

“I’m serious! It’s okay, Poe and I are okay.”

Shoulders slumping a little, you remembered you were leaving your friends soon. In the two years you had known them, they had grown to be like family- stronger, in fact, because they were eager to come through for you when your actual family was apathetic.

“I’m just relieved this whole school nightmare is nearly over… my MA, the flight school. All of it. I’m done.” Emerged from the dressing room, you wore a black dress. The neckline was delicate, with a nipped waist and a lacy scalloped hem that hit well above your knee.

“Do we have a winner?” Rose blurted as you nodded with excitement. This was going to be a great surprise.

——

There might as well have been a beehive in his stomach. Poe had only been in the cockpit for two hours, but sweat was dripping down his neck. For every mark the flight evaluator made, his body constricted with anxiety. Breakfast barely stayed down. Poe’s indomitable confidence was challenged in ways he could never have foreseen during his time at Vance. Although he passed his initial flight training, being among the brightest and most ambitious in the Air Force was enough to put him on edge, always studying later into the night and taking notes furiously. Competive was one way to describe him, he’d admit reluctantly.

Unzipping the top of his olive flight suit, he dug his phone out of a locker. You, in Denver, sticking out your tongue on a ski lift. The photo taped to the inside of the door caught his eye, but he was reluctant to call. It would start a fight if he broke the promise, but Poe wondered if he could come up with an excuse to buy time to get his head straight.

“Oh my God! How did the check ride go, babe?”

“Uh, good. Good.” The response was terse, higher pitched than usual. Lying wasn’t one of this strengths. He couldn’t get away with it when it came to his aunt Leia or to you.

A red headed lieutenant sauntered toward the hangar, a helmet and oxygen mask under his arm. He regarded Poe with a contemptuous smile. “Looks like you’re about to puke, John Mayer.”

“Fuck off, Hugs.” The pilot’s skin was pale, eyes sunken from a poor night’s sleep yet fixed straight ahead. Patience was in short supply today; Poe would spare little for the likes of Hux.

“Oh, sorry. That wasn’t for you,” he cringed.

“Hold up. Did some guy just call you John Mayer?” You snickered into the phone, imagining Poe's expression of annoyance.

“Yeah… D-bag sees me play guitar one time and that’s what I get saddled with for a year.”

“He must think you’re dreamy,” you teased, hoping to cheer him up after what you could only surmise was a bad run.

“Oh, I _know_ I’m dreamy.” You could finally hear a smile return to his voice.

—-

The air in the hallway of the officer housing unit was stale. Humidity didn't thicken the air here like it did in Florida, but you were still uncomfortable. Snap had confirmed to you in a text that he was able to encourage Poe to come back and study after class, but who knows how long you would wait for him to return? Anticipation grew, and you scrolled through your phone to distract yourself from the building pressure. A few comments on your post about graduation from old high school friends, an acquaintance from a past job. Nothing from your dad or mom congratulating you on the graduation. Disappointment felt like the inside of a pumpkin being scooped and scraped out violently, the relationship you had with your parents a pile of discarded pulp and seeds. There might be something worth salvaging, but finding it would be a messy endeavor.

Poe turned the corner, eyes cast downward, deep in thought. His gait was slow, depressed almost. You watched him for a moment, unaware of your presence. So close, so far away. What a metaphor for the past year. Looking up toward his door, he stopped in disbelief. You were _there_. His chestnut eyes crinkled as a wide grin spread over his face and he sprinted toward you, lifting you off your feet as he crushed you with a powerful hug. Everything lifted, you were elated.

“What?!”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Yeah. Surprised! And here I was, happy to get the cookie dust,” Poe chortled.

“Cookie dust?”

“They arrived completely smashed, yesterday.” Poe stepped back and looked you over again with tired eyes, his outstretched hands squeezing yours.

“Wait, why did you send them if you were coming?”

“To throw you off the trail.”

“My chemist fiancé. You’re smart, yet you have no idea how to prepare a care package.”

You punched his arm, and he brought his lips to yours in an urgent kiss. The cinnamon Altoid resting on his tongue sent a hot tingle into your mouth.

You were actually there. It meant everything

\-----

It was your first time being in his little space at Vance. So far, you had only seen it in the background of your Skype sessions. When he lived alone, his housekeeping skills were unimpressive. Takeout containers sat on the counter next to the package you sent, dirty shirts scattered across the floor. The framed photo of his mom in a flight suit with Poe seven years old squinting against the sun, sat next to a crumpled pack of Marlboros. If he had known you were coming, they’d be hidden.

Surprise still permeated Poe’s features, paired with an irresistible grin hadn’t left his face since the moment he saw you in the hall. That face, igniting joy as your eyes met and his lungs emptied swiftly. Your hand slid around his neck as the door closed, minuscule droplets of sweat in the reservoir of his collarbone. Concern gripped you as you remembered the phone conversation earlier in the day, immediately after his final flight certification exam. He called you breathless, bickering with another trainee. Tucked in a corner of the airport, you hoped he wouldn’t ask about the background noise- and he didn’t, his twisted stomach pulling attention from your distant voice.

“I take it the check ride didn’t go well?”

Poe sighed. There was no use in trying to lie about it anymore. “I was terrified. This is it, you know. The flight evaluator, what a hardass.”

“You made it, though. Snap tells me you’re the best in your class. Teacher’s pet.”

Eyes rolling playfully, he scoffed, “Snap said that?”

“Everyone feels self-doubt sometimes. You don’t have to radiate confidence every moment of your life. It’s… unnatural.”

His thick eyebrows raised, reflecting on your words silently. Pushing him onto the bed, you took in the sight of your fiancé in his battledress uniform for a moment.

It had been too long since his dark eyelashes brushed against the trembling skin of your breasts. Too long since he breathed out sweet nothings in Spanish while rough fingers agitated spirals against your moist clit. Too long since the boundaries of your bodies blurred in a mind-bending act of erotic communion. Grabbing him by the collar, you leaned in for an eager kiss. He had swallowed his mint, but the taste of cinnamon was still sharp. His tongue slid into your mouth, skimming over your own and instantly filling your mind with even more filthy fantasies. His hands cupped the nape of your neck, fingers gently pulling at the roots of your hair. He broke off, regarding you through those seductive, heavy eyes.

“I still can’t believe you’re here. I told you not to-“

A finger pushed into the dip above Poe’s lip as you straddled him. Feeling the warmth of his body beneath you, your eyes squeezed shut. He still felt like home. But it wasn’t enough, you craved more.

“I want to be here. I want to support you. This means so much.”

“And?”

“And I want you,” you said simply.

“Oh… _Now_?”

“Do you mind? You don’t have a hot date soon or anything?” Your lips were hot on his neck, the taste of salt. Poe could feel his pants becoming tighter as desire surged through his bloodstream. The outline of your pussy pressed down into him, teasing in that skirt.

“It’s kind of a big deal, yeah.”

“Well, I’ll be done with you before it’s time to report to the ceremony. ‘Kay?”

With a passionate kiss, he began to grind under you as your fingers undid the buttons on his camouflage jacket. Your bare thighs looked wonderful mounted on him, he’d missed that sight. His teeth trapped your plush bottom lip, eliciting a small gasp before he released it to pull your shirt over your head.

“It’s gonna be like that, is it?”

“Maybe It is,” he smirked as his hands unclasped your bra. His voice was sexy and comforting, spreading over your skin like a blanket in winter.

Poe’s face fell forward, licking and sucking at your nipples as the wet sensation sent your nerves alight. Strong hands ran alongside the curves of your thighs, his fingertips digging in deeper the more turned on he became. As he started to remove his shirt and cap, you sighed, “I’ve told you how much I love seeing you in uniform, right?”

Taking the cap from his hand, you set it on your head and raised a flirtatious eyebrow at him.

“Oh, you’re kinky. I _like_ you.”

His arms wrapped around you, his olive skin warm against yours before he turned, pushing your back into the mattress. The cap popped off your head and you both laughed before his smile faded. Longing was building in his chest as he lay over your half-nude body. He rocked back on his knees, sliding his hands down your legs to the hem of your skirt.

“Wait, how much time do we have?” you asked, scared you might accidentally make him late for the very milestone you traveled halfway across the country to be there for.

“Enough time for me to make you see stars,” Poe replied as he reached up your skirt to find your panties. He absolutely loved going down on you. Squirming. Sighing. Pleading. It gave him a little rush of power, the authority of commanding an orgasm out of you. His mouth watered for it.

The ache in his pants grew even more urgent when he realized you didn’t have any panties on at all, and he lifted your skirt to find nothing but your bare skin. He could smell you, smell your excitement for him. With a glacial pace, he spread your thighs and drug his wet tongue up the length of you. As soon as he made contact, you let out a moan. That mouth, that fucking _expert_ mouth of his. One of your heels rested under his shoulder blade he began to lap at your wetness slowly, flattening his tongue as it reached your clit. Your body was swollen under his tongue and with each pass, your hips moved on their own volition more and more.

“Poe…” you whined. His slick tongue probed deeper between your lips and you writhed around it. Retracting his tongue, he kissed your clit, his full lips massaging it passionately as your feverish hips rolled around his jaw. A low groan rumbled from his throat, the sound sending another spark of arousal coursing through you.

A blind hand reached down for him, fingernails raking his scalp gently as he kissed and teased the most sensitive area of your body. Alternating between gently sucking on and flicking your clit with his smooth tongue, your fiancé was delighting in your cries and muffled moans.

Tensing your legs around Poe’s bare, muscular shoulders, his name was on your lips. Over and over and over, like a meditation on pleasure. He lapped at you deeply again and your fists dug into the comforter. For every wiggle of your hips, Poe felt another jolt of blood in his cock. It was pulsing with energy he couldn’t wait to unleash.

Just when it seemed his appetite was insatiable, he pulled his face back and whispered, “Delicious.”

That word left you trembling for more. His chin was covered in your wetness, which he smeared against your inner thigh. His five o’clock shadow was rough against the delicate skin, making you flinch. He smiled up from between your legs as he reached up and removed your skirt completely.

Poe crawled over you, hungrily kissing the skin on your stomach before he got to a birthmark just below your navel. It was a couple inches from the small scar from your surgery. It had healed well but you were still self-conscious, especially given its emotional gravity. He felt your body tense when he lingered over the spot, and knew why. He wanted to show you he wasn’t going to run from it, not after everything you’d been through together.

“This is still my favorite one. This little spot right here. Remember?”

“Denver. How could I possibly forget?”

Memories flashed in Poe’s mind. The purple bruise on your ass from snowboarding. Room service breakfast in bed. The herd of elk you watched in awe. The solitaire he tucked into a sock at the bottom of the carry-on bag, but couldn’t bring himself to give you yet.

To break the tension, he lowered his mouth again, blowing a loud raspberry over the soft skin. The sensation snapped you upright immediately, giggling. Pressing a tender kiss over the scar, his hickory eyes flicked up to you again. Pain filled up your chest. You didn’t want to be reminded of what you had lost, not now. It had taken a while to get used to the scar and all it stood for, but sometimes it all came crashing down on you again.

His hands ran over the curve of your hips as you sat up on the bed. Poe’s tone was more loving than lustful now. “Amor?” It wasn’t his intention to shift the mood, but he was grateful for it now because it meant slowing down and really connecting with each other. Being apart had a way of sending you into a magnetic frenzy as soon as you were alone together, which was certainly fun, but he also wanted to be present for you.

“You’re perfect.”

Avoiding his eyes, you cast your own down. He took your hands, pressing a kiss into each palm before standing to shed his pants. Poe reclined on the bed next to you, a hand massaging your lower back. Every lush curve of your body was a masterpiece to him, and it would be a shame if you couldn’t see that.

Your eyes glistened with emotion as you kicked yourself for draining all the eroticism out of the moment. You wondered why you couldn’t just enjoy your fiancé and his gorgeous body for the first time in months. Turning to him, you began to apologize. His hand came up to shush you, then traced along your hairline behind your ear. Poe’s mouth followed, whispering your name at a fraction of a decibel.

“I said you’re perfect. I love you.”

Sinking into him, your lips met his temple, his cheekbone, his neck. He was too good. In your whole life, no one had ever been so thoroughly enamored with you. When he looked into your eyes, the sincerity of his words was always clear.

Your arms wrapped around him, breasts constrained by how tight you squeezed. “I love you…”

Climbing on top of him again, your silky legs sent quivers up his body as his hands caressed your breasts. He kissed you delicately at first, hesitant to heat up again so quickly. In response, you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth and sent his heart racing again. Leaning back, you reached down to grasp him. He wasn’t as hard anymore, but you knew how to fix that. Sliding up and down his length, you felt him twitch and grow in your hand. Firmer. Longer. Poe’s head threshed side to side on the pillow, enjoying every second of it after being starved from your touch.

His body was on fire, he had to have you. With two firm hands, he grasped your ass and scooted you over his erection. Keeping a hand on him to guide him in, you eased the tip slowly inside. Poe watched your every expression intently as he penetrated you deeper and deeper, until he was buried completely between your legs. Furrowing his brow, he let out a satisfied moan. You smiled down at him through a tangle of messy hair. Flesh yielded under his fingertips as you began to ride him, your hips undulating slowly. Poe’s mouth fell open slightly, his tongue running over his lips again when they began to feel dry from his breath.

“You and that tongue. I swear.”

The corners of his mouth turned up and he brought your hips down harder onto himself. Gasping, you tightened your grip around his cock and nodded. Words were too much now. His hands guided you down, slammed you down around him. More. More.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you lifted yourself off him before it became too much. Poe whimpered at you in confusion until he realized what you were doing. You lay parallel to him on the bed, pushing back toward him to spoon.

His head rest in the crook of your neck as he guided himself into you again. Snug. Wet. Exactly what he needed. Arching your back, the curve of his penis slid against the inner landscape of your body and sent another moan escaping through your open mouth. The angle was divine as he drew himself slowly in and out; you really were seeing stars like he promised.

Steadying yourself against the headboard with one hand, you rhythmically rocked your hips with his, the bristle of his cheek grazing yours. Reaching back into his dense black hair with your free hand, you tugged at the loose curls. Poe’s hand glided across your jiggling breasts, kneading as his eyes closed with the creamy texture.

“Remember how you asked me what flying is like?”

“Y- Yeah…” you sputtered out.

“A little bit like this. Not as good, of course.” His voice was hoarse from breathing through his mouth so heavily. Poe’s tan cheeks were lifted in a smile, pushed against your jawline as he pumped into you.

Sweat collected in the concave of your spine, creating a suction as his chest pressed into it. His thick cock glided out beautifully moist, only to be thrust back in quickly and completely. Tease, reward. Tease, reward.

There was only Poe and his hardness deep into you, his scent of leather and sweat intoxicating as everything else faded away. His erratic breath vibrated in your ear, the texture of his face still sanding away at your jaw and neck. Spasms gripped him as you both approached climax, his legs flexed around your curled body. Choking back a scream, your vision went white, a strobe light flickering with each thrust. He released into you, the juicy, hot flood sending your body into another shockwave.

“ _Fuck_. Oh fuck…”

Panting, Poe squirmed against your body as his orgasm faded. A feeble moan left your flushed mouth as he slid out, splaying onto his back blissfully.

After a few moments, you turned to face him and his hand reached around your waist. “You okay?”

You hummed with a small smile.

“I think you drained my life-force.” Jet black hair was spun into a votex over his sleepy eyes.

“Still nervous about tonight?”

The Drop Night ceremony was hours away, he would soon be assigned his plane and learn where he’d be stationed next. It was all he could talk about for weeks.

“I don’t have the energy to be nervous after that,” Poe mumbled.

* * *


	12. Drop Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Right before graduation, Poe and his classmates learn what they’ll be flying and where they’ll be stationed. The night is full of surprises.

Poe’s heart rattled against his rib cage like a frightened sparrow, eyes darting back to you from across the room in an unspoken conversation. He let you know it would be a long night, and they’d be making jokes throughout the informal ceremony to provide a little levity. The guys were enjoying it but you were climbing up the walls with anxiety.

Two children, dressed in their Sunday best, were noisily waving to their father despite their tired mother’s attempts to quell them. The golden-haired boy pushed against your leg, fidgeting in his seat as the names of pilots were called, one by one, to learn their new assignment.

“Second Lieutenant Hux.” A wiry, young pilot with red hair and a permanent scowl stepped forward.

“You’re headed to Edwards, 412th Test Wing. Congratulations. Now go and get yourself some sun out there in California.”

Chuckling, a bunch of the men exchanged glances. Normally Poe would be the most entertained by this sarcastic jab, but he was too busy chewing the inside of his cheek was raw. A nervous tic. Flight was his family’s legacy, his mother’s legacy. Shara’s wedding band still hung around his neck, not yet coupled with the engagement ring you received a couple months back. Poe tried to steady his breathing as the seconds ticked by at an excruciatingly pace. He found himself incredibly thankful that you'd helped him relieve some tension, so to speak, a couple hours earlier. Even so, his body was alight with an uncharacteristic anxious energy as he waited to hear his name called.

“Captain Dameron.”

Steeling his nerves, Poe stepped forward with chin up. The officer held up a hand, parallel with his eye level before continuing, “Sorry, you must be _this_ tall to fly the aircraft.”

Snap let out a guffaw as his buddy was roasted in front of everyone. The rest of his classmates snickered, Poe being the shortest of them by a substantial margin. It had been a running joke during his time at Vance, along with the John Mayer references by Hux that he hated so much. His height was never a source of shame, probably because he was the same height as Kes, the toughest man he'd ever known. Kes was bulkier than Poe, knotted deltoids on his shoulders and wide biceps that he used to carry his young son. If someone like Kes could be an utter badass while being somewhat diminutive, then he could be also. Poe had a density to him, he wasn't scrawny, and what he lacked in height he more than made up for with sheer charisma and warmth. So he simply responded with that signature lopsided grin and a good-natured eye roll to the joke of his commanding officer. 

“Kadena, 44th Fighter Squadron. Very well done, son.”

Poe nodded for a moment, processing the superior officer’s words. His lips pressed together tightly as he received praise for his high test scores, clearly suppressing a deluge of emotion. This was it- his dream. It was actually happening, the fighter assignment he'd dreamed of. What he had worked for his entire life. He was elated, the rattle in his chest replaced with an encompassing feeling of happiness like he was about to burst open. It felt the same as when you nodded after he slipped the solitaire onto your finger and agreed to be his forever. Poe felt like everything was falling into place, that all of the heartache and sleepless nights and hours of eye-crossing studying was worth it.

White noise enveloped your ears as the rest of the officer’s words to Poe faded away. You struggled to comprehend what this meant. Did he just say fighter? _Fighter_? Where the fuck is Kadena?

Poe threw a wink at you before heading back to the row of other pilots. Hands trembling, you mustered a warm smile and mouthed “love you”. Conflict stewed in your gut. This was what he wanted since he was six, visiting the base at Moody and walking down the hangar in absolute astonishment. Dread engulfed you. He needed to be on the ground. He needed to be safe. It was too real for comfort now.

Happiness beamed from his handsome features, even as he tried to maintain professionalism. Even this far away, you could see the tension in his cheeks as they called his classmates, threatening to lift his entire face into a brilliant grin.

—-

You adjusted the hem of your black lace dress, smoothing the fabric over your hips. Poe and Snap walked up, mid-conversation. “That bastard’s so pale, he’s gonna burst into flames-“

“What are you talking about?”

Snap pointed at the red headed pilot talking to a tall blonde. “Those two have been going at it all year. It was hilarious at first but now I’m sick of it. Nice to finally meet you in person, by the way.”

“Hux deserved it. Seeing his face when he drank that coffee was one of the greatest moments of my life, man.” The two friends collapsed into laughter again at the memory of the prank. You still weren’t sure exactly what was wrong with the coffee or what happened next, because they always just started laughing when it came to that part.

“Every pilot thinks he’s a comedian,” you rolled your eyes.

Poe slipped your hand into his, and you squeezed it like Morse code: two quick squeezes meant ‘let’s leave’. You came up with it when you first started seeing each other, when dates at noisy concerts and bars were the norm. Everyone seemed to be having fun, hugging family members and friends, patting each other on the back and talking about their rotations. You scanned the faces of the other spouses, but collapsing into a sobbing mess didn’t appear to be an immediate possibility for any of them. You squeezed his hand again: _Let’s leave. Let’s leave._ He wasn’t getting the picture.

“Umm, Poe? Can we talk?”

Once outside, he wrapped you in a hug, his eyes pink from holding back tears for the last hour. Poe nodded into your shoulder, grip still tight. You ventured carefully, “Kadena?”

He broke away and grasped both of your hands enthusiastically. “Can you believe it?! Japan! We're going to Japan!”

Again, you found yourself flabbergasted. Being stationed overseas was certainly a possibility, but you didn’t expect to be living in Asia by the end of next month. Shoving down your fear, you promised yourself you weren’t going to get hysterical about the fighter assignment. Spinning the brilliant solitaire around on your finger, you searched for a a comforting distraction as the stone brushed against the sensitive sides of your fingers.

“Corazon? Still with me?” Poe’s smile reached ear to ear. “You won’t have to hear me complain about awful food anymore.”

“Yeah, I just…” A grin began to spread across your cheeks as the idea marinated in your brain. “ _Japan_.”

“Okinawa. It’ll be our adventure… Trust me.”

“No, no… it’s good.” Your weight shifted back and from one leg to the other in your heels. Poe’s forehead creased.

“You don’t seem-“

“And the aircraft assignment?”

“F-16… Crazy.” Poe head shook in amazement.

“What does that mean? Fighter Squadron?”

“Well, it means I get to fly an awesome fucking plane.” His smirk faded as he realized how concerned you were for his safety. Maybe not the best answer. “It’s a strategic location, that’s all. Don’t worry, I'll be safe. I know what I'm doing.”

Your fiancé pulled you close, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. Poe was barely able to contain his joy over all of the, in his opinion, great news, but knew you were ambivalent. He just didn’t know what would be comforting right now, so he brushed strands of hair behind your ear before tenderly kissing you. Lingering close, he asked, “Are you okay?”

Questions echoed and skidded across your thoughts, too many to comprehend now. “Yeah. We’ll talk later, right?”

—-

Poe was talking with his hands, telling some story to a friend’s wife and their three children. He kneeled down for the younger two boys, swooping his hands to show them a flight formation. Captivated, they listened with wide eyes and copied his movements. The teenage daughter was about to melt into the floor from boredom. With how many acronyms these guys threw around, you could understand why. When he started the training, you had to ask Poe to tell it to you ‘in civilian’ half the time just so you could have a conversation.

Families were milling around the Officer’s Club, a spirited game of beer pong between Navy and Air Force was in full effect, and room was spinning. Just a little. Only when you stood.

“Still alright there?” Snap noticed your dazed expression as you got up and guided you back down. “Let me grab Poe for you. Hang tight.”

You nodded, pulling out your phone. Japan was rolling around in your mind, the concept buoyed by the beer you downed so quickly in an attempt to self-soothe.

“Everything okay?” Poe took your hand in his and you looked at him through bleary eyes.

“No, I don’t know Japanese…”

“I don’t either! We’ll be on base, so that’s okay.” Poe shrugged before peering over your shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Duo… Lin… Lingo.”

“Huh? You’re slurring baby, you’ve had enough.” Poe said, sliding your glass away.

“The little owl is going to teach me how to order sushi. And beer. I’ll need to know that. Man… sushi sounds great right now.”

Snap threw his head back in laughter after a quick visual exchange with Poe. Blinking, it took a moment before you realized you were the comic relief. “Your girl gets wasted and tries to download language apps? Well, at least she’s not twerking on a table somewhere.”

“My lady is both an intellectual and a hungry drunk.” Poe realized he shouldn’t have left you alone, especially knowing that his assignment was worrisome, “Let’s get some food, yeah?”

—-

Tossing the crust back into the cardboard box, you leaned back against the couch in Poe’s apartment and stretched your legs on the floor. It felt good to retreat from the energy of the party, but you felt guilty that Poe left to take care of you.

“Feeling better?”

You hummed, the haze was starting to lift and your mind sharpened. The pizza wasn’t great, but pizza never needed to be great to be satisfying.

“I’m sorry I left you. Everyone’s just so excited and we start talking…”

“It’s alright, I know. And Snap kept me company, I wasn’t really alone,” you answered. “He seems like a good friend.”

“He is.” So much was changing, and it was hitting him suddenly. A few moments of silent contemplation passed. Poe turned to sit opposite of you on the floor and grasped a foot in his hand before kneading it slowly.

“Is this your way of apologizing?”

He shrugged in response and your focus wandered to the little side table where he kept two framed photos. One was of him when he was about seven, with his mom, in her flight suit. It was grainy, but you could see Poe and his mother had the same untamed black hair that matched their spirit. The other photo was of you together at the aquarium, smiling in front of the otter exhibit as Poe lifted you off the ground. When you arrived earlier, there was an open pack of cigarettes next to the frames, but it had since disappeared. “So… I know you smoke. I’ve known for a while.”

His thumb pressed into the arch of your right foot, frozen. Knowing how you hated it, he made an effort to kept it secret since he started again when his training orders came. The half-empty pack of Marlboros had been chucked behind some some DVDs in the bookcase, and he was hoping you hadn’t noticed.

“Oh, come on. You need to stop.”

“I don’t really smoke. Just when I’m stressed out. Like, one when I’m stressed.” Poe was rationalizing, embarrassed. Diverting his eyes, he began massaging again.

“And you think things will be less stressful when you’re flying missions? ‘Cause they won’t be.”

“I know. I’m quitting.”

“Good. It’s gross. And besides, I want you around for a long time.” You exchanged a small smile as his knuckle glided over the sole of your foot.

Poe took a deep breath and scooted closer to you on the carpet. You rolled onto his chest and looked up at his russet eyes. “We need to talk, about the wedding.”

Your eyes widened playfully, “Do we now?”

“Not like that. Like, what are we gonna do? To qualify for on-base housing, we’ll need to be married before we go. I didn’t realize it was going to be overseas, I just assumed…”

You’d been wondering about the same thing, but didn’t vocalize it in your earlier stupor. Earlier, Poe had shed his dress shirt, exposing his toned arms in a fitted tank. You ran your hands over his skin absentmindedly as he spoke, focusing on the warm tones of his voice as you tried to calm yourself down from the emotional flurry of the fighter assignment.

“So, we should just go to a justice of the peace?” As soon as the words came out, you felt a pang of guilt. It shouldn’t matter how it happened, but somehow it did matter. You felt shallow for wanting something more than simply being together.

“How do you feel about Europe?”

Lifting yourself off him, you sat up, unsure of what he was getting at. Poe had a glimmer in his eye, that same playful spark that usually meant some kind of surprise or trouble. Seeing it again made your heart flutter.

“You don’t qualify for space-a flights yet, but I have some savings we can use for that.”

“Are you…”

“Let’s go to Europe. Do it there.”

“Can we even?”

“Yeah! I’m out of here in two weeks, and don’t report to Kadena ‘til the end of next month. We can take a few days in there, between packing the apartment.” Momentum was picking up in his voice as he pieced it together.

“Poe, where?”

“There are bases in Italy, Germany.” His excitement was contagious. “Which one?”

You got that feeling again, the gravity-free feeling when he proposed between the sea and the stars and for a moment you felt like anything was possible.

“Hmmmm… Flip a coin?”

——


	13. Flip A Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eloping in Europe! Plus, singing because it’s romantic as Hell.

Poe's hand was still cupped over his palm, protective. Anticipation was gnawing at you as you both sat on the floor of his room at Vance on your knees, cardboard pizza box and paper plates strewn around. “Are you going to show me?”

Slowly, he started to remove his top hand, then jerked it back over his palm before you caught a teasing glimpse of the quarter hidden inside. Poe loved to mess with you. “Heads for Germany, tails for Italy, right?”

“Are you cheating?” Reaching forward, you made an effort to pry his hands apart. He hopped up off the floor, sprinting to the bedroom to block his hands as you chased him.

“Why do you always think I’m up to something?”

“Dammit! Show me already!”

“It hurts my feelings that you think I’m so shady,” he joked as you smacked his shoulder. He felt like a little kid on Christmas morning, feral energy taking over his body as he saw how giddy you were at the idea of heading to Europe to elope before the move to Japan. Poe was already on a high learning that he'd been given a fighter squadron assignment, and he was barely able to contain himself.

“Salami or bratwurst?! What’s it gonna be?” His left eyebrow lifted, that one misbehaved most often. You pushed him onto the bed playfully, and he fell with his hands still clasped together. Wrestling to get them apart, you both started laughing.

“Shut _up!_ Show me or I’m going without you!”

“Okay, okay… Ready? 3. 2. 1.”

—-

It had been two weeks since Poe announced his idea, and you were due for a Skype session before flying to Europe in 5 days. Exhausted, you were busy clearing out your half of the duplex you shared with Finn when he called. Poe’s place at Vance was in similar disarray as you both tried to minimize and pack from the upcoming move. Wearing only his soft jogging pants, he sat on the couch, guitar in hand. Nimble fingers plucked the strings in an upbeat tune as Poe sang happily.

_Put me in your suitcase, let me help you pack  
‘Cause you’re never coming back, never coming back_

With a wicked smile, Poe looked from the frets to the webcam, knowing you were about to descend into a fit of giggles. The bare heel of his foot bounced on the floor to keep time.

_Cook me in your breakfast, put me on your plate  
'Cause you know I taste great, you know I taste great_

_Put me in your dry dreams, or put me in your wet  
If you haven’t yet, no if you haven’t yet. _

_Put me in your blue skies, or put me in your gray  
There’s gotta be some way, some way_

_Wrap me in your marrow, stuff me in your bones  
I’ll sing a mending moan, song to bring you home_

Shoulders shaking with laughter, your cheeks stung a little from smiling so much. You had to admit it was romantic, in a distinctly ‘Poe’ way. He actually wrote you a song that mentioned having a cream dream, and somehow it was still sweet. The guy was unbelievable.

He ran a hand through his ebony curls, “Can’t wait to meet you in Venice, mi amor.”

—-

The Alps were gorgeous, purple and white marbled swirls beneath the window. It was lovely, until the horizon tilted on a frightening axis and the blood drained from your head. Poe wasn’t able to get on the same flight, but he’d meet you soon if his plane wasn’t delayed. That was the way it had to be when there were no other seats open, but the base at Aviano was only an hour outside the floating city. You decided to browse the airport shops while you waited.

Poe couldn’t contain his happiness when you stepped onto the curb and into the cab. As you slid into the backseat, he pulled you onto his lap, pressing a series of exaggerated wet kisses around your mouth before cupping the nape of your neck for a passionately charged one.

“He doesn’t care,” Poe motioned to the cab driver, “Italians are a very physically affectionate people.”

“From what I hear, so are Cubans.”

“What could have possibly given you that idea?” he quipped with a grin, hands still around your neck.

“I have no clue… “ you pretended. “Anyway, when in Rome? Err, Venice?”

After dropping your bags at the hotel, you stepped onto the street, hand-in-hand, in search of lunch. The buildings were a patchwork of terra cotta and plaster, most of them with arched windows. Narrow alleys were paved with ancient bricks, bridges crossing over the canals as common as streetlights at intersections back home. Wide eyes soaked in every sight, the city bathed in warm summer sun.

“Where do you want to go, Piazza San Marco?”

“Let’s just get lost.” Strolling across an arched bridge, you leaned your head into Poe’s shoulder. Gondolas full of rapt tourists punctuated the stretching canal under you, each one brandishing a camera.

On the surface, it was surprising that, of all people, you fell for a motorcycle-riding, rugged jet pilot. Poe was the pepper to your salt, you liked to joke. He added humor and excitement, you offered grounding and warmth. Together, you were a study in complements.

——-

Cuddled up to him in a booth at the back of a cafe, you talked over tortellini di Valeggio and wine. The environment was romantic, surely, but a thought kept picking away at your happiness. “Poe, what if I can’t find work in Okinawa?”

“We’ll figure something out. It’s a huge base.”

“An actual clinical research position is a pipe dream for the time being, and I don't have specific pharmacy knowledge. I don’t want to get a little job on base, I want to be in the lab. That’s what I’m good at.”

“I know, Amor… and I’m so proud of you. You want to do something meaningful. I get that.” Guilt tugged at Poe as he placed his hand over yours in reassurance. “But we’ll figure out something.” He empathized, knowing how hard you had worked for your Master’s. If flying was suddenly been ripped from his hands just after earning his wings, he’d be devastated. This was so much to ask, following him to the other side of the world and leaving behind everyone else. Even though you weren't close to your family, Poe understood that on some level it would be hard to leave them as well. Friends, the familiar comfort of home, your ability to work in the field you'd dedicated yourself to studying for years- Poe tried to comprehend how this must feel for you. Yes, it was a step into the unknown, but Poe was an eternal optimist.

“What if we’re in Japan for more than a couple years?”

“Hey! We’ll make it work- We’re starting fresh. Together.” Poe’s face lit up. “And tomorrow, we make it official.”

About to be thrust out of your comfort zones, you clung to each other as you navigated the wider world. This was a time of new beginnings, he was right. “Are you at least going to tell me what you have planned for tomorrow?”

“ _Pssshhht_ , no.”

“Well, do we have everything we need?”

“Something old, my mom’s ring. Something new, your dress,” Poe answered.

“I borrowed my clutch from Rey… do we have a blue?”

“Blue? That would be your dashing groom, of course!” he chuckled. “And yes, I arranged everything. Just don’t leave me at the altar and we’re set.”

Golden lights illuminated the Old World alleys, sending dancing shapes across the rippled surface of the canals. You stopped on the bridge for a few minutes, silently appreciating the scenery. Sandalwood, leather, amber. Fingers hooked around his belt loops, you breathed him in.

——

Stretching slowly, Poe untangled himself from your sleeping body. He quietly made his way to the bathroom, shutting the door silently behind him. Nerves alight, he examined his reflection in the mirror. In his dark blue service dress uniform, he took a deep breath. First he tried on the soft flight cap and attempted to smooth down some of the curls twisting out around his ears, then he reached for his combination cap with its hard brim instead.

Poe scrawled out instructions for you in a note to find when you woke, sticking it to the face of your phone. He didn’t want to risk bad luck by seeing you getting ready, so he slipped out of the room, having breakfast in a nearby espresso shop by himself while you stayed at the hotel.

_Future Mrs. Dameron,_

_Please take the water taxi to Isola della Certosa. Left at the fork to the park, meet me at the gazebo facing the water._

_I’ll see you soon, my love._

_-P_

With a little help, he had taken the reigns on the actual wedding, and arranged things during the final days before graduation. Knowing what a determined person he was, you didn’t question it when he insisted and Poe was surprised at the level of trust you put in him for such an occasion.

In a small park overlooking a panoramic view of Venice, he waited for you with two people. Slightly removed from the heavy pedestrian traffic, it felt quiet and intimate. Rows of cobalt gondolas bobbed in the water, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he watched them. Poe’s breathing hitched when you arrived, radiant in a simple white dress. Adjusting the deep blue jacket and herringbone tie of his service dress uniform, he straightened his posture as you walked toward him. Poe handed you a bouquet of peonies, delicate pink and fragrant, tied off with an understated white satin ribbon.

“So, I got us an official but he only speaks Italian. He said we can do the vows in English, though. And, we’re lucky enough to have my friend Oddy here to translate. He’s stationed in Aviano and helped me set this whole thing up. I couldn’t have done it without him.” He explained, gesturing to a man with silver-patched hair holding a camera, who gave you a shy smile.

Gazing deeply at you through soulful eyes that glistened, Poe slipped his mother’s slim, gold wedding band onto your hand. His chest could’ve burst with how much adoration he felt as you stood before him. Memories washed over him as the man spoke, Oddy translating for you in a hushed tone.

The wonderful: The dizzy first kiss you shared in front of the record player, a thick bass line filling the room. Poe pushing you into the dancing fountain in front of the art museum, which led to a splash fight that ended in a soggy declaration of love.

The painful: His body sliding into the narrow hospital bed, carefully avoiding your IV as he sang “Moon River” in a low register. You sobbing into his shoulder as he left for Vance, desperate hands pawing at the lapel of his leather jacket to get him closer, closer.

The mundane: Spitting tapioca boba pearls in a competition for distance (you won). Taking B.B. for walks around the neighborhood at dusk. Sunday morning croissant crumbs and smears of blackberry jam on the kitchen counter.

Venice may have been slowly sinking into the Adriatic Sea, but he was weightless, temporarily untethered by the anxieties and complications of life. Poe wanted you and all that meant. For good. He wanted everything. 

—-

Vintage books with broken spines decayed, they had been transformed into bricks and stacked as steps leading into a charming store. Inside and out, the walls were lined high with ephemera, worn down by time and elements, a testament to the power of the written word. Behind the counter of Libreria Acqua Alta, a young woman handed Poe a small package wrapped in plain brown paper. He took it under his arm as you browsed.

In an alcove behind the shop, you found a sidewalk cafe with rosemary growing from antique tin cans. Staggered around the perimeter, they scented the air with an herbal sweetness. Poe slid the package across the table, before dipping a piece of biscotti into his cup.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he offered, “but I thought you might get a kick out of this.”

Tearing the paper, you read the cover of a dogeared, black paperback: Selected Poems 1956-1968 by Leonard Cohen. You turned it over, noticing the sides were uneven and yellowed, it was a first edition. A bookmark of narrow ribbon marked a page. Suzanne. The first song you ever hear Poe sing was based on this poem- it was the first time you had heard either. He played the story of the Bohemian dancer for you probably a dozen times the first year you dated, at your request. Slightly melancholic, you loved the way it showcased his voice.

Throwing your arms around Poe, you thanked him with a soft kiss before fishing a small pouch out of your purse. A golden oval, stamped with St. Joseph of Cupertino fell into Poe’s palm. The levitating saint was floating in elegant protection.

“I thought since I’m taking your mom’s ring, I should replace it with something for your necklace. He’s patron saint of aviation. Figure you can use all the help you can get when you’re flying.” 

A smile spread across his lips as he looked up at you. His love, his everything. “This is perfect. Thanks, Corazón.”

“Babe… I still can’t believe that happened.”

“Me either!”

He pulled you close, brushing hair out of your eyes. “So, do you wanna go back to the hotel? I know it’s still early, but this is our honeymoon after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyrics at the beginning of the chapter are from 'At The Hop' by Devendra Banhart.


	14. Burn The Skeletons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe receives a rude awakening as you begin to settle into your new home in Okinawa.

* * *

Welcomed by the rest of the 44th Fighter Squadron, Poe was settling into the Kadena base well. Fears he had about a being a new pilot with such an assignment seemed unfounded, although he felt the groaning weight of a reputation that already preceded him. Some instructors had warned him that there may be a backlash against the new guy swooping into an elite squadron, even if he had the chops and had paid his dues in the service for the last decade. 

Outside in the fair climate of Okinawa, he took lunch with the other pilots, the warmest of whom were Bodhi Rook and the Commander, Cassian Andor. 

Although he was their commanding officer, Cassian preferred to be called by his name rather than rank, and spent time socially with the rest of his squadron. The Mexican pilot had a razor-sharp bone structure, a cutting jaw that paired well with his cutting tongue. He didn’t usually warm to people, but found a sort of instant affinity for Poe. It was nice to have another Latino around, someone with whom he could share some inside jokes in their mother language. Word of Poe’s skill had spread through the ranks and Cass was interested to have see if the new pilot would actually live up to the buzz surrounding his arrival. 

An Iranian-American with a elflike features and large, expressive brown eyes, Bodhi volunteered to show Poe the ropes as they walked around the base. 

Poe explained the apprehension you had about living in a country where neither of you spoke the local language, and shared that his concern was more about navigating off-base. Bodhi tried to alleviate it, pushing the button for a drink at the Coke machine. He tossed a bottle at Poe. “I’m just saying, it’s been easier than I thought. You’ll get used to it. If you wanna go off-base, it’s actually no big deal ‘cause most of the signs also have English—“

“Poe. Dameron.”

It couldn’t be. Blood turning frigid in his veins, he turned toward the woman’s voice behind him. She stood next to the Coke machine with a hand on her hip, her smug face highlighted with lip gloss. Those curves still managed to make even ABUs look vulgar. Poe didn’t answer- he couldn’t as his mind struggled to process _why_  his ex-girlfriend was here, in Japan, right in front of him.

Bodhi and Cassian both sensed the energy shift when Poe’s eyes met her. They both stared, not by choice but by compulsion. Amanda was blessed with dramatic, almost geometric curves, and a tongue just as sharp. 

“I’d recognize that parrot beak you call a nose anywhere.”

Poe diverted his eyes quickly, shattered memories tearing through his consciousness. “How—“

“Isn’t it funny how we keep getting stationed together?” she interrupted.

“Not really.”

“How long has it been? What, three years?”

“Four. And they’ve been the best years of my life, Amanda.”

”Mandy,” she corrected, “You’ve never called me Amanda. That’s too formal for our relationship.”

”We don’t have a relationship. That’s over,” Poe answered coldly, “And I’m not calling you a pet name.”

Poe unscrewed the top of his bottle. Reaching forward, she attempted to snatch the bottle right out of his hand, like they were still a couple. Like she didn’t destroy him ten times over.

Glimmering in the flourescent light, Poe’s new wedding band caught her attention as his hand jerked back. Emerald eyes travelled over his body slowly, becoming reacquainted with his strong jaw, the mess of waves over his creased forehead, the pink mouth she’d known so well. When they fell over his shoulders, she noticed the wings and change of insignia. 

”You’re a pilot now. Wow.” Voice steady, Mandy wasn’t surprised by this, but chose to keep the fact that she was impressed that he’d actually become a fighter pilot from Poe. “Looks good on you.”

”Thank you,” Poe mustered, mouth a tense, straight line. He didn’t want to admit to himself that she looked good too, but he’d never give her the satisfaction of returning the compliment. Not after what she did. Poe was stronger now, and having you made him realize just how unhealthy the relationship with Amanda had been. 

“Only took you what... like eleven years?” 

“I have work to do, we’re done here,” Poe bit out. She was trying to get a rise of out him, like she always was. Mandy liked to pick at each insecurity, lifting the edges of the scrabs away little by little to reveal the raw vulnerability underneath. As the years went on and he remained an engineer while he waited for acceptance into then flight program, Poe feared he was at a disadvantage as he aged out of that sweet spot. It hadn’t quite been eleven years, but it was close enough to hit that nerve. 

“Guess I’ll see you around the base then?” she replied, walking away amused with herself. 

Kicking himself, Poe regretted not mentioning you immediately. He was a newlywed, giddy that you were reunited finally after so much time apart. He’d found someone he was wild about, who loved him fiercely as he was. Poe had never been loved like that before. 

Mandy always wanted him to change. He was never enough for her, so she attempted to mold him to her ideals. First she bought him clothes that didn’t fit his sensibilities, and asked him to refrain from listening to his favorite music around her because they didn’t share the same taste. But then it escalated, berating him for his job and telling him that flying was a pipe dream- that if he was good enough, he would’ve been accepted right away. Eventually, Poe began to believe her. He doubted himself, though his friends and family had no idea Amanda’s words were chiseling through his confidence. 

Never good enough. She was caught with another guy, and Poe forgave her. She convinced him it was a deficiency in him that caused her to seek the company of another. So he took her back. Then another.

Chronically optimistic, Poe believed in a goodness within her. She had redeeming qualities, he thought, and deserved a second chance. A third chance. The spark - of what he mistakenly believed to be goodness- within her proved to cover his heart in third degree burns. It took Poe time to realize he was blameless in her infidelity, time to heal, time to trust again. 

Realizing his hand was squeezing the bottle, Poe shook his head and released it back to a regular grip. Mind swirling, he wondered why Mandy was so damn antagonistic. And why, of all the Air Force bases on the planet, they had to end up together. 

Bodhi and Cassian exchanged a bewildered look at the tense encounter. Every head turned as the group of pilots followed her voluptuous shape.

“What the Hell was that all about?” Bodhi finally asked, breaking the silence that settled around them in her absence. 

“Nothing, we dated in Guam. Long time ago,” Poe shook his head, attempting to stuff the sharp emotion down into his chest. “Didn’t exactly end on great terms.”

Cringing, Cassian muttered, “Dios mio…”

—

So far, Japan was underwhelming. Not that you had seen much of it yet. The base was an insular community; if you didn’t want to leave, there wasn’t a reason to. You knew this beforehand, but it was still strange to live in little bubble of American products, American fast food, American airmen, knowing that you were actually on the other side of the world.  
After the flurry of the past couple months, the stillness of the apartment was eerie.

You didn’t realize how much you thrived on the busy pace of school until you were free from its deadlines. You didn’t realize how lonely it could be spending 10 or 11 hours by yourself, and it gave you newfound appreciation for Finn watching movies with you and Rey showing up unannounced back in Tampa.

The isolation was compounded by not having a car yet. Both of your cars had been sold before leaving, along with most of your other possessions and furniture, to make the move easier. During the day, you would meander around the housing units with B.B., his little white paws dancing with excitement whenever a squirrel scurried from the bushes.

The drill was left on the kitchen table when Poe came in, after you tried to hang a picture frame but misplaced the level again. A couple odd boxes littered the apartment, items excavated then left sitting on top as needed while you were still organizing things, but almost everything was up. B.B. came charging up to him, his tail a flurry of motion. Poe bent down to pick up the little terrier, and made his way to the upholstered side chair.

“Hey babe, I made lasagna.”

“Thanks. How’s it coming along?”

Nodding, you answered, “Almost there. I want the place to be set up already. It’s ours, you know, just ours.”

“Yeah. Pretty cool, huh?” Poe smiled, leaving a kiss on your cheekbone. You had been looking forward to him coming home all day, but tried to act nonchalant.

His mind replayed the scene at lunch when Amanda came hurdling back into his life. Their time together seemed so distant, like watching a stage actor interpret his personal story. Someone else rehearsing his lines, his poor decisions.

How could Poe explain that relationship without terrifying you? Those memories were skeletons that needed to be burned, reduced to char and ash. And they were all resurrected in a moment.

“Are you okay?” you asked, searching for Poe’s deep eyes that had only connected with you briefly since he arrived back at the small apartment.

“Just hungry. You pick up some garlic bread, too?”

After dinner, you poked through boxes looking for your macrame plant hangers. It just wouldn’t be home without some greenery to brighten the place up, and you hoped to head off-base together during the weekend to pick some up.

B.B. scratched a paw at a particularly dusty, unmarked box. You peered inside: Two triangular, wooden flag cases, one for Shara and one for Kes. A photo album filled with Polaroids, its yellowing pages covered in plastic film. Poe had been so worried it was lost in the move.

“I found your parent’s stuff! It’s over here.”

***

**Four Years Earlier**

_Poe’s lungs felt strangled under the weight of grief, he was sure he cracked a rib sobbing last night. The phone connection was poor, like he could hear every wave in the ocean between them. He wasn’t proud of himself for calling her, but there was no room for pride within his pained heart._

_“Promise me you won’t bring up the past.” Amanda spoke firmly into the receiver. Non-negotiable._

_“I won’t. I just can’t go by myself. Please. I don’t want to be alone now…”_

_—-_

_Although they weren’t together, Mandy held his hand through the memorial service for his father. Poe shut down long before the twenty one gun salute. Aunt Leia’s glassy eyes. A flag-draped mahogany casket._

_Aged airmen in formal dress shook his hand, reminiscing about war stories and remarking on the strong resemblance to Kes. Nodding through it all, he became numb._

_“It’s so fucked up, I—“ Poe’s voice wavered as he drove from the cemetery to the reception at Han and Leia’s home. He could barely see through his swollen eyelids._

_As his father was lowered into the ground, the numb layer around his heart finally cracked and his emotion caught up to him. Every cell in his body wanted to drive far from Valdosta, from the watery eyes of his family and the truth that his father was gone. Screaming for an escape, his mind seemed to claw the inside of his skull. Anywhere but here._

_“We don’t have to go to the reception.”_ _Amanda knew Poe was weak in this moment._

 _Her hand inched farther up his dress blues and his eyes pinched closed at her touch. Fuck. It had been so long. And it would be an effective distraction._ _It felt wrong, her slender fingers on his thigh. Poe had just buried his father and this was no time for sex. He didn’t even want her, outside of a familiar shoulder to lean on temporarily, but he needed this. He needed to get out of his head, immerse himself in his body. In her body._

_Still idling at the stop sign, his black Civic was the only car at the intersection. The cornered flag sat in the backseat, a neat little package of honor._

_“No, I have to go. I shouldn’t have to explain this to you. I don’t wanna talk about—”_

_“I know you want to... and I promise, we don’t have to talk at all.” Mandy unzipped his fly. “We’ll make a detour and be there twenty minutes late. No one’s gonna notice.”_

***

“Look at your dad, wow. You’d probably look just like him if your hair was that short.”

In one photo, they were in front of a large oak tree back in Georgia, Poe was about five years old, holding a white goose. His smile looked too big for his face. Kes stood proudly next to him, wearing a camouflage ball cap.

In another photo, taken years later in front of the same tall oak,  Kes held Shara around the waist as Poe waved from the branch of the tree above them. Shara wearing her hair down, so dense Poe felt like his hands could get lost in it when he was little. Kes has the same warm quality to his eyes as Poe, dark brown with a glimmer of mischief. 

“Yeah. That’s what everyone says. Dad’s face, mom’s hair,” Poe smiled, closing the album gingerly. “I still feel weird that I have pictures of my family up and yours are nowhere to be found.”

“Don’t. They’re packed away, I just don’t want to look at them.” You sighed. “My dad still hasn’t called to wish us congratulations on the wedding. Didn’t call when I graduated, either. He hadn’t seen me since I left for Tampa, so I doubt he would’ve even noticed I wasn’t in the country anymore if I hadn’t left him a voicemail.”

Poe frowned, and sat next to you on the couch. “Has anyone gotten a hold of your mom?”

“Not recently. Sometimes Lando- remember, my godfather- will call when she pops by and asks for money, but that hasn’t happened in a while.”

”I’m sorry, I know things are weird between you. It’s just strange, with my family being so tight-knit,” Poe began to apologize for breaching a painful subject. “Hey. Why don’t you put up one of Lando?”

”Yeah, I think there’s one of me and him around here. I will.”

“Your mom... Think she’s okay?”

You shook your head, “She hasn’t been okay for a long time.”

Poe frowned; it was still hard for him to wrap his brain around the relationship you had with your family, and it angered him that they hurt you. You tried to shrug it off and pretend it didn’t, but he knew it affected your sense of self worth for many years and probably still did on some subconscious level. You didn’t deserve that. 

Easing his head down into your lap, he curled his body into a C shape on the couch. Fingers got lost in obsidian hair, massaging little circles into his scalp. A soothing motion for both of you, until you heard the gentle sound of snoring. The apartment was quiet again.

——

Bodhi closed the file and turned to Poe after the safety check. “We like to take the new guy for some kamikazes before we run our first mission together. What do you say?”

Poe chuckled, “Kamikazes? In Japan? That’s PC.”

Bodhi shrugged. He wouldn’t have chosen that drink, either for the taste or the name.

The squadron seemed friendly enough, and Poe was glad a couple of them took to him right away. It wasn’t common to get such a prestigious assignment right out of UPT, and he was nervous it would ruffle feathers.

“Any of the guys here married? Or whatever?”

Cassian poked his head around the corner. He answered in a lighthearted tone, “Why? Looking for a boyfriend, Dameron?”

Poe shrugged the joke off. The way you responded to him when he drug himself home after a long day made him more and more concerned. You clung to him, magnetic and desperate. Of course, you played it off as part of the honeymoon phase but Poe knew better. He could feel the pain in your hands as they grasped his shoulders through that flight suit. He had his life-long dream here, and everything you knew was on the other side of the world. 

“My wife, she’s bored. Or lonely. She doesn’t know anyone here but me. I don’t know, maybe she can hang out with someone?”

“Yeah, of course,” Cassian nodded, “I can introduce her to my girlfriend, Jyn tonight. So, are you coming or not?”

-—

A series of shot glasses banged on the bar top. Jyn turned and grimaced, “God, Cass really is making sure they get wasted.”

“And this is supposed to be for morale?”

“That’s what they say, but it stopped being about morale two rounds ago.” It was more than a little awkward for Jyn to be forced to come along because you were there, and you mentioned to her again that Poe insisted on dragging you out with the rest of the squadron even though he knew it was going to be like this.

”Man, I’m getting the worst headache in here,”  you grumbled, rubbing your temples.

Jyn was intense, a pretty brunette with a large mouth and a firm set to her jaw, like she was grinding her teeth. Petite, although the energy she emitted was anything but. It seemed fitting that she was Intelligence; she was somewhat enigmatic, and you weren’t sure if she liked you. In fact, you weren’t sure if she liked anyone but Cassian.

Cassian slid up to Jyn, his bottom lip in a pout. “Has anyone told you how wonderful you are?”

“You’re the only one of us to drive good. They doesn’t have their papers here yet… And I’m a little halfway buzzed.” Bodhi’s puppy dog eyes were comically exaggerated as they pleaded with Cassian’s annoyed girlfriend. He thought the drunken grammatical scramble that slipped from his mouth was an eloquent argument, and smiled to himself.

Jyn slid the strap of her purse off the back of the chair, “Yeah, okay. It’s a good time to go home—“

“No, no, no! We’re not going home!” Cassian’s grin was wide and his cloudy eyes widened with it. He leaned in to whisper loudly into her ear. “Karaoke.”

“No. Cass!”

“Palomita…” The squad leader pressed his palms together pretending to beg and Jyn rolled her eyes. They were all so drunk, they would have tried to go on their own and gotten lost if she didn’t agree.

Jyn motioned to you, “I’ll drop you off then come back for them.”

Poe’s cheeks were flushed red from indulging too much, and you realized you’d never seen him drunk. Buzzed but never actually drunk. He wasn’t the type to give into peer pressure but you understood his desire to bond with his squadron, however unsavory it was.

He wrapped you in his arms, beaming with pride yet oblivious that your headache was making you miserable. Poe pointed to you and called out loudly, “Guys, guys. This is the best person in the world right here. I love her!”

Poe left a sloppy kiss next to your mouth as he tried to protest you leaving with Jyn. His thoughts sloshed and bumped around like tennis shoes in a washing machine. “Come with us… What am I supposed to do with out my lovely wife? You’re so— wait. What happened to my…”

As Jyn pulled up to your apartment, you turned to her. “Take care of them? I’m going to bed, but can you text me later?”

She nodded with a smile, “Sure. They’re the smartest bunch of idiots I’ve ever met. But yeah, I’ll make sure your man comes back in one piece.”

It took Poe a while to realize what was so strange about the karaoke bar Cassian and Bodhi drug him to. Despite being in the city itself and not on base, it wasn’t an authentic. It was a facsimile, designed deliberately with overpriced drinks close enough to the base for it to be a favorite among service members looking for a ‘Japanese’ experience, but not popular among actual Japanese people. What tipped him off was the songs, all in English. No J-Rock, no K-Pop.

The last thing he had a somewhat clear memory of was the squadron loudly debating which song they were going to make Poe sing, passing a laminated song list pack and forth between them. Someone was advocating for what would be the most embarrassing, since that’s the entire point of hazing.

As for the actual song, he couldn’t be sure? It was a blur, like taking a long-exposure photograph out a moving car window. Bodhi propping him up at one point. Singing a Spanish nursery rhyme about chickens with Cassian. Another round. Another song.

Hours later, Jyn shuttled everyone home. Bodhi walked Poe up to the door of your apartment, and Poe groaned as he fumbled with the lock. The commotion woke you, and you brought him to bed. He smelled like a gutter in the French Quarter, but you weren’t about to argue with him about taking a shower.

Collapsing onto the bed, Poe slung a heavy arm across you. You kissed his forehead and he slurred, “G’night, Mandy…”


	15. Ask For Anything More - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shower sex because Poe is totally a morning person.

Poe was elated the morning after returning from his first real mission, despite working four days straight with little rest. Being part of the squadron was a wonderful feeling, he thrived on it.

He was hoping you were also starting to gain a sense of purpose and belonging in Kadena, since beginning your tutoring lessons in the city. He wanted to see you smile again. A real smile, not a half-hearted approximation where your mouth lifted but your eyes stayed melancholic.

You wiped a little circle into the steamy bathroom mirror as Poe finished shaving. He rinsed the razor a little before tapping the handle on the side of the sink, then his bottoms pooled at his feet before he stepped into the shower.

Sharing one small bathroom with a single sink wasn’t ideal, but after such a long time being apart, you really didn’t mind tripping over him while getting ready in the morning. At least, for now it didn’t bother you. Brushing your teeth, you watched his blurry outline in the frosted shower door. You’d missed him these last couple days, not doing much with except practicing your language app and taking B.B. for long walks around the base. Waiting. Worrying.

“Who could ask for anything more?”

“Huh?”

Poe began to sing louder over the hiss of the water, his voice tinged with rust in the morning.

“I got rhythm, I got music  
I got my gal, Who could ask for anything more?”

Laughing, you asked, “You’re certainly in a good mood. What are you singing?”

He continued to hum the melody for a moment, then poked his head out of the the door. You watched his reflection in the mirror. “An American in Paris. Remember when he’s teaching the kids an English song?”

“Right! Jeez, I’m surprised you remember that. I thought you hated musicals.”

“Well, I kinda like Gene Kelly in that one, before all the weird ballet at the end. I can relate, as a dashing expatriate with a beautiful girl… An American in Okinawa.” Poe’s eyebrow was cocked, some bubble lather clung to his neck. “But I was actually thinking of you, teaching.”

Spitting foam into the sink, you turned to correct him. “It’s okay, but I’m not really a teacher. I mostly just help with homework and correct grammar a little while we talk.”

“Come here…” He reached a wet hand out to you, beckoning toward the shower. Droplets fell onto the tile below. You stepped closer and he slid the door open, wrapping his slippery arms around you and pulling you into the shower’s stream.

Squealing and laughing, you fought him a little as the water soaked your hair and Poe’s shirt you were wearing. You sighed, then ran your head under the warm water as Poe’s hands braced your thighs.

“Ugh! Baby, why?!”

“Because I’m hot for teacher,” he smirked, his eyes feasting on the way his shirt clung to your wet curves. “How about I make you sing?”

You giggled. Of course he could.

Poe pressed his body against you, his erection dipping into your stomach. Placing kisses on your cheek, his hands wandered up from your bare legs and slowly peeled the wet fabric from your chest. He reached a hand over the shower and dropped it to the floor outside with a heavy squish.

He kissed you, quickly jumping past the sweet and into the passionate. Heated. Urgent. Poe wanted you to feel adored, rather to remember that he adored you. Sucking on your bottom lip, his eyes closed. Peppermint.  
Dropping to his knees, he watched dribbles of water fall from your nipples for a moment before drawing one into his mouth. His mouth was hotter than the water, and you gasped when he started to suck and run his tongue over it. Goosebumps cascaded like dominoes down your back. Lustful hands kneaded your ass, then broke contact before slicking some body wash over the soft skin. Poe felt his pulse jump as his rough hands slipped across the round muscle.

“Mrs. _Dameron_.”

“That’s still so weird, your last name.”

“Our last name now,” he corrected.

You brought your hands to his scalp, spreading some shampoo into it. Poe’s hair was a tangle of black seaweed, but he loved when you would rake the tips of your fingers across his scalp in symmetrical patterns like ancient mandalas.

“God, it’s so sexy when you wash my hair,” he mumbled, hands still tracing soapy shapes into your thighs and the thick mounds of your glutes.

Bringing the shower head into your hand, you rinsed behind Poe’s ears and ran it along the nape of his neck as his eyes closed. The cool air tickled the nerves in your skin, reacting to the change in temperature. He brought a hand to his head, scratched a little then rinsed his fingers and palm under the water. The hand snaked down, curious to see if you were as moist between your legs as you were everywhere else. You were. Adjusting the angle of his hand, he slipped over the folds and his hickory eyes shot up at you, a sinful expression on his face as rivers of water poured from his forehead.

“Gimme that.”

Taking the shower head from your hand, he quickly guided it down to your clit. As the water rushed over the sensitive bud, a soft moan escaped your lips. Poe nodded, pleased that the idea he got from porn actually worked in real life. His soapy hand moved across the curve of your hip, up to your chest where he lathered figure-eights across your soft breasts. Bubbles slid down your stomach slowly, forming strange shapes as they melted away. Your cries echoed across the hard tile.  
His cock was throbbing, watching your hips begin to subtly gyrate with the aquatic stimulation.

Standing now, he kissed you again, his tongue lapping slowly, dominating yours. The softness of your mouth made him ache for you even more. He moved the shower head away to rinse the soap off your torso, and warmed himself in the stream for a moment before flipping a switch on the side that changed the water pressure.

“Poe! That’s too much!”

Despite your protest, you weren’t backing away. In fact, your knees were weakening and bending. The water pulsed quickly over your clit, and Poe moved his fingers to expose it a little more. It stung, riding the edge between pain and pleasure. Whining, your body added more of its own slippery fluid to the mix.

Water dripped down Poe’s body. Smooth chest. Flat stomach. He wasn’t thin, there was a substantial nature to the core of his body without being overly defined. It was just enough. His skin looked a little darker than usual in the light filtering through the glass shower door, and he was wearing nothing but the golden St. Joseph medal and a smug smile. Irresistible, in every way.

“We should’ve gotten one of these things back home,” he quipped.

“Fuck me already.”

Your husband smiled at the command, finally removing the shower head and returning it to the bracket above. As the water drove down on you both, he spun you around. Placing both hands on your hips, he slid his cock under your ass. “Is this what you want, babe?”

“Don’t tease me, please…”

Proud of the effect he had on you, he pulled his hips back so the shaft drug along the wet cleft. Your back arched, hungry for more contact. The skin on your ass was shiny with water, erotic like the cherry-red paint of a classic hot rod.

His hands ran over the twin dimples on your lower back as he guided the tip into the hot slit, then back out, then returning to push past the boundary again. Poe buried himself within you, inch by inch slowly. Painfully, frustratingly slow. Gasping, you extended both palms flat against the cold tile wall to steady yourself. The curve of his body was intense at this angle, finally filling you completely, and you shuddered.

Snapping his hips against you, Poe’s head fell back in bliss.

While he teased you with the massaging shower head, he worried the water would wash away some of the excitement, but you were just as creamy and soft around him as ever. One hand gripped your hip hard, little bruises blooming under his fingertips, and the other smoothed over your sacrum as he pumped into you, harder. The shower was filling with steam again, the air in your lungs heavy with moisture and desire.

Panting, Poe reached his hand around to rub circles into your clit for more friction as he pounded into you from behind. Another gush of wetness soaked his thick cock in response. The feeling was overwhelming, like he was everywhere at once, and it made you light-headed.

“Fuck… So juicy,” he growled, the sound of rusty gears still in his throat. He bent his legs to shift the angle, and your ass spread apart, jiggling under him. Swiftly, he removed his penis almost all the way, your legs nearly buckling as its length entered you again.

As he did, he ran his thumb along his tongue, then rested it between the cheeks, pushing against the resistance steadily. He penetrated you mercilessly, and although he was going to be gentle back there, just one entrance wasn’t going to be enough. He wanted every inch of you to belong to him.

“You okay?” This was new, and he wanted to make sure it wasn’t hurting. He delighted in pushing you to the edge, but didn’t want you to actually be in pain.

The repeated smack of your ass against the front of his hips the only sound coming from your body as your lungs struggled for air. The nerves were too sensitive. When his thumb brushed and pushed against its tightness, your coherent thoughts faded away.

“Yeah…” you gasped out, “but no more than that.”

The fact that you were enjoying it made him even hotter, and he kept that hand steady while thrusting into you, smiling as he looked down. Ribbons of water fell down the double groove of your spine, your hair clung to your back, and the curves of your ass jiggled against him.

Poe’s heavy breathing turned to grunting as he approached climax, and in his excitement he absentmindedly pushed into you deeper with his thumb, your body squirming against him breathlessly as it slipped in to the knuckle. A powerful wave of pleasure washed over you. It was shocking, how good that felt, as if your body was submerged into a vat of warm wax.  
Quivering, your legs felt like they were about to give way, “Give it to me! Give it to me…”

In a final animalistic frenzy, he shoved himself deep into you. Wild. Rough. Wet. Moans and curses tumbled from your mouth, when you managed to breathe. Your foot began to slip but he gripped you, commanding you to receive him until both of you were beyond satiated. Spasming around him, you clenched his ample cock desperately.

Writhing and bouncing, your back arched as you pushed against him. Deeper. More. Another spasm, this time engulfing your senses. A field of white vision, paired with the sensation of a bomb finally detonating within you. The squeal that accompanied your orgasm surprised you in intensity.

Poe pulled his thumb out and stepped forward, pinning you between his body and the cold tile wall as he finished, so you wouldn’t collapse into a delirious mess. The contrast between the heat of the water and the cool of the wall sent another rush through the center of your body. Soon, he was moaning your name, his mouth just behind your ear now. His heart raced, shoving his cock deeper within you, filling you up. He pulled out, watching himself twitch as he came on your ass. Lazily, he smeared his hand across it as the last bit of energy he had before leaning against the steamy shower door.

After composing yourself a moment, you turned and rinsed yourself, looking at Poe through dazed eyes. His tan chest heaved, and his curls were stretched and distorted across his ears and forehead under the weight of the water.

“Okay, I think we’re clean now…”

“Absolutely nothing about that was clean,” he snarked, turning the faucet. He toweled off and stumbled to the bed, stepping over the soggy pile of fabric that left a puddle on the floor.

Sprawling out wide like he always did when he was satisfied, he took up the whole bed. You tipped toward, wrapping yourself in a towel and laid on top of him. A wet spot seeped into the sheet from his jet black hair as he sighed.

“Poe? Do you like it here?”

“I like being with you. I don’t ever want to be apart like that again.”

A finger ran along the pulse still jumping in his neck as you gazed at him. “What do you want to do today?”

“We just did it,” he grinned. 

Laughing, you leaned in for a lingering kiss. The heat was spent, but the love was still evident. The taste of peppermint toothpaste was shared between you again. “Nothing else?”

His eyes closed and he rested his hand in the curve of your lower back. “Maybe just breakfast… Remember that song?”

“The one you were singing, yeah. How does it go again?”

“Who could ask for anything more.  
That’s how I feel. There’s nothing more to want.”

You balled up the towel, tossing it across the room with one hand before resting your head against his bare chest. “You know, the dirtier you are during, the sweeter you are after.”

There it was, that smile he’d been missing. Exhausted, but genuine. Poe pulled the comforter up over your back, wrapped his arms around you as his eyes fluttered closed. Lying there together was truly all he wanted to do that day. 


	16. Tethered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe feels guilty over the growing rift between you.

Suffocating. That’s what it felt like, but not in a panicked way that made you claw at the walls. Just in the filling up with your own stale air until you were incapable of even breathing. Slow, uneventful. Easy to ignore, if you were so inclined. The apartment was cozy and decorated with pretty things from places West Elm and the little booth at the Saturday morning market. Nice enough. But it was filled with spent air and Poe knew you weren’t flourishing.

The best part of the day was when Poe stumbled through the front door in that olive green flight suit, after a 15-hour day flying over Korea or who knows where. Embracing you completely, curving his body around you like he could absorb you into himself. Smelling your hair, dinner, that honeysuckle candle on the coffee table.

Tracing his hands down your back, dotting lazy kisses wherever his mouth happened to land. Poe would decompress in your arms, knowing he smelled like sweat and jet fumes but too hungry and exhausted to shower right away. Sharp in the nostrils, the kerosene scent of JP-8 meant he was home.

Eventually he would spout off a little joke Bodhi or Cassian made at his expense, or a story that began with, “So, there I was…” between mouthfuls of yellow rice and beans, gesturing with his hands or a fork to explain. The lines around his eyes would deepen as he grinned, radiating his love for aviation.

When he finally would force himself to bathe, Poe would ask you to join him. Craving intimacy, he would turn off the bathroom light and leave the hall light on, just enough illumination to make out shapes in the dark. He would hold you in the wet darkness of the shower, quietly. It usually didn’t lead to sex, you just wanted to tenderly revel in the feeling of each other’s skin.

Even though he did nothing but speak a couple words to Amanda, he felt guilty. He didn’t flirt. He wasn’t friendly. She was physically stunning, but Poe looked at her with contempt and shock instead of lust when she was right in front of him. Poe kept reminding himself this. He didn’t do anything. More importantly, he didn’t want to do anything. He caught fleeting glimpses of her around the base. For all the people there, she was hard to ignore. Once, their eyes met as they passed each other, Poe quickly redirecting his focus as his ears burned hot. A thin layer of guilt settled onto his mind. It clung him, in the sky, at home.

An assumption had been that everything would be easier when you and Poe moved back in together, and in a way that was true. It was easier to sleep when the weight of his hand rested across your thigh, easier to talk to him over dinner than over a Skype window. Some things were harder now, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. Waking was hard when he would be away for days at a time. The rope you tethered yourself to for the last year, marking each day until his training was done, had reached its frayed end. You knew at this point you were supposed to let go of the rope and take his hand and simply trust him.

Days stretched in a frustrating cycle, lacking much structure or goals. Wandering through the grounds of Kadena, you found yourself making excuses to strike up conversations with strangers. Snippets of small talk, pleasant but shallow. When you realized that you were practically having intellectual discussions in your head with B.B., there was no denying you needed to find work of your own. The little Jack Russell terrier wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but he did tilt his head in an adorable way when you asked him rhetorical questions. 

On one of your walks with B.B., you found yourself talking to a young woman being stationed at Buckley. After some laughing when you shared the story of Poe’s bruised ass after he misguided his snowboarding skill in Denver, you found out she was selling a small hatchback before her move.

By that afternoon, you’d paid cash for the car, pleased that you’d gained a way out the Kadena bubble. By nightfall, you’d listed your offer for services as an conversational English tutor for the local high school and university students of Okinawa. You might not be able to understand Japanese, but this could be an interesting way to occupy yourself.

More than a little anxious, Poe kissed you gently before dropping you off at the cafe to meet your first student. It didn’t matter that you had insisted on driving yourself, he still felt protective of you alone in the city, meeting a stranger from the Internet. He pestered you to come along until you relented, after making him promise to keep his distance.

He lingered outside for a new minutes before you tapped on the window and shooed him away. Poe flashed a somewhat embarrassed smile and took a walk around the neighborhood while you waited for her to arrive. You weren’t sure exactly what you could do for her, since her English was quite good based on email correspondence before the meet-up.

Kaori strode up with two men, and brushed her long bangs out of her eyes. “Pleased to meet you. These are my uncles.”

The slim one extending a red-tipped cane in front as he walked introduced himself as Chirruit. Smooth and serene, his face was highlighted by foggy eyes he chose not to hide behind dark glasses. Chirruit gestured to his ponytailed boyfriend Baze, a man with a whethered face and stocky build, who would be imposing if not for the genuine, crackling warmth of his smile.

Over tea, you spoke and gained trust in each other. Turned out, they were just as hesitant to leave their niece alone with a stranger as Poe was hesitant to leave you. They asked you about your life before the move to Kadena, you spoke to them about the University of South Florida. Sharing an anecdote about causal alligator sightings made them laugh, although Kaori looked a little disturbed by the idea that you were relatively comfortable with giant reptiles just roaming the city you lived in before. 

They explained that they owned a small business, making pottery and teaching ceramics workshops, and were raising their niece. Chirruit had helmed a successful business designing screenreading software for the blind- that was why he learned English originally- before selling it when he experienced a spiritual revelation. Many people were shocked when he walked away from it all, burn Baze wasn’t. Now, together, they did what they loved, what fed the soul. 

“So, excuse me if this is a strange question, but I noticed your English is excellent. May I ask why you want me to tutor her when you can speak perfectly?”

“She’s 16. We thought she’d connect more with someone like you. Make it less of a chore and more...” Chirruit answered. 

“Social?” Baze offered.

“Plus, you can help with the written end of her English schoolwork since that’s clearly not my forte,” the blind man chuckled.

  
——-

Facing the shore, you sat between Poe’s legs, leaning back into his chest and breathing salty air. His bare feet were covered in powdery sand, and his hands were resting on his bent knees. Poe squinted, watching teams of people rowing long boats through the shimmering water. “What’s it called, again?”

“Haarrii. I think it just means canoe race. Apparently it’s a thing during these summer festivals.”

You drew a squiggles in the sand with your toe. Living so close to the beach was nice, it reminded you of being back in Florida. You missed your friends, you missed the bookstore and the downtown campus.

“Hey, about the other night.. If it makes you feel better, know that I’m never touching Triple Sec again.”

You chuckled, “Good. That was a disaster.

“Bodhi is nice. He was the one who made sure you didn’t fall on your face or sleep in the bushes outside when you came home smashed. And he got me those mozzarella sticks.”

“Wait- When did he get you mozzarella sticks?”

“You had all the cash, busy telling everyone some story. He offered when I said I was hungry,” you explained. 

Poe’s chest hollowed with remorse. Not only did he embarrass himself, but he was rude to you. Unsure of what to say, he wrapped his arms around your stomach. You softened with his touch, and Poe hoped you understood he didn’t want to be the guy who dragged you to the to the other side of the world, only to leave you hanging. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he watched the waves lap at the shore only to retreat or dissolve into the sand.

“Cassian seems fond of you. Didn’t talk much to me, you two just kinda buddied up.”

“I’m sorry, did it make you feel left out? You know, you can jump in any time,” Poe answered quietly. 

It wasn’t in your nature to complain or nag, and usually he could feel it right away if something was bothering you. The disconnection concerned Poe. Was this just a normal result of being separated by distance for so long? Did he just need to tune back in?

“It’s okay. I just have nothing to bring to the conversation. You guys were just talking Air Force and pilot stuff. What am I supposed to do, swoop in and start talking about hydrofuges and DNA?”

“Fair enough. And Jyn?”

“I’m not sure if she likes me. I dunno, maybe she’s the kind of person who takes a while to warm up.”

Poe’s brows were heavy as he stood up, brushing sand off the back of his shorts. He had hoped introducing you to a possible friend would alleviate some of the loneliness he was sure you were feeling. Your body was paper mache, he felt you crumbling. “Hey. Tell me about that student again.”

“Kaori? She’s sweet, lives with her uncles. They invited us to their home, they want to get to know me better since I’ll be spending time with her most days.”

“That’s great, Amor! Just let me know when,” he said, helping you to your feet. Gulls chattered overhead as you walked along the beach.

Breaking off, you walked into the water, the cool green waves against your knees, then thighs, as you shuffled your feet to avoid stingrays. Your shorts were soaked, you were still fully dressed. Poe called from the sand, and you looked back to him, hoping he would come in after you and play in the waves. Instead he called something unintelligible, his words swallowed by the sea and the wind.

——-

The pavement under Poe’s crosstrainers felt solid, the air cool against his cheeks as he ran. He needed to be anchored in reality and not ruminating in bed. Rows and rows of apartments, nearly identical to every other base he’d been to. He gained momentum as he passed them, perspiration beading across his forehead.

Reveille wouldn’t play on the loudspeakers across the base for about four more hours, the bugle melody the official start of the day. For now, the sounds of The Black Keys played in Poe’s earbuds. Reaching the end of the last row, he turned around and headed toward the apartment he shared with you. Maybe when he got back, he’d be able to sleep a little before showering and reporting for duty. Looking down, he fumbled with the phone in his hoodie pocket to change the song playing. 

Impact. A startled yelp. Concrete. The taste of iron.

It took him a moment to orient himself. He was on the ground, someone was speaking to him, but it was far away. The voice was familiar, feminine. 

“Poe? What are you doing?”

He groaned, reaching up to his head. Wet. “Is that sweat or blood?”

“Are you okay?” Mandy knelt in front of him, her forearm scraped badly and blonde hair wild. There was so much exposed skin around that sports bra. Poe was panting, his heart still racing from the run. Blinking in disbelief, he wondered if this was a dream or a nightmare. She reached forward and he jerked away. 

“Don’t. Don’t touch me, Mandy.”

Her head cocked to the side, amused. “Oh. So it’s Mandy again and not Amanda?”

He groaned again, not from pain but from exasperation. Poe hated that he called her that. She wasn’t familiar to him anymore, she was a stranger now. A ghost of the past. “Just stop.”

“I’m trying to help you. You ran into me. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Exercising.” He gingerly touched the side of his head. “It’s like 4:30 in the morning. What are you doing?”

“When I can’t sleep, I go for a jog. Guess that makes two of us.” She extended a hand again to help Poe up. It might as well have been a live grenade. He pushed his palms against the sidewalk to steady himself.

“You’re married,” his ex-girlfriend stated flatly.

Poe wasn’t sure if she just noticed his ring, or if it was the reason she grabbed for his hand in front of the Coke machine. He’d assumed she was trying to take the drink from his hand, but now it dawned on him that she might’ve reached to examine the pale gold symbol that told the world he belonged to someone. He didn’t owe Amanda a response. They hadn’t belonged to each other in many years. In fact, she never really belonged to anyone. Especially not him.

Pulling his hoodie back up over his hair, Poe’s eyes bounced around to the steps in front of the apartments, the sidewalk, the bushes. Anywhere but her face. Anywhere but her body filling that obnoxious fuchsia sports bra. He wondered what kind of a person would put on something like that to go for a run before the sun was even up, but then he remembered exactly what kind of person Amanda was. “Yeah, happily married. Thanks.”

He wasn’t sure why he added the “happily”. It was true, he was happy with you, but it was an unnecessary modifier in this exchange. It hung in the space between them, floating over the dandelions that strained through the cracks in the sidewalk. Was Poe trying to convince someone? Amanda? Himself? Why would he need to convince himself of something he knew, deep in his soul?

Amanda craved control, always. Poe could see that in her face now, even in the dim light. Their relationship had been a power struggle from the start, one that set a fire off within him. At first, he read it as passion, then love, then heartbreak. Its current interpretation was bitterness.

As Poe put weight onto his left ankle, he hissed in pain. Amanda rushed over, ignoring his earlier words, and gripped his arm as he grimaced. She examined his face, so close now.

Their eyes met. Locked. Steadfast. She noticed Poe’s eyes were tired, but still had the same gorgeous depth of an unexplored wilderness. He noticed her eyes were wide, but still had the same iridescent quality of a pool in summertime. Poe could see she was still Mandy- the same girl he knew, who he thought he loved- and not Amanda, a stranger. 

Her thumb brushed against his bottom lip, and although it stung, goosebumps shot down his spine as she connected with the sensitive skin. His heart rate still wasn’t slowing, and he didn’t back away from her touch.

“Your lip is split,” Mandy spoke in a whisper.

 


	17. Mirror Is A Trigger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe tries to make sense of his emotions in the aftermath of his encounter.

Closing the bathroom door before he flipped the light on, Poe assessed the damage of the fall. A swollen, purple mouth with a tear down the middle. A scrape over his right cheekbone from the sidewalk’s unforgiving grit. A area on his scalp that bled a little, but that he couldn’t see well from this angle. The sweat stung, salt within the wounds.

He dabbed some hydrogen peroxide on each injury and watched clay-colored bubbles form, recalling the molecular thumbprint of Amanda’s scent. So close, they shared the same breath. Magnolias. It reminded Poe of plucking lush leaves off the branches around the tree house his father built, when the white blossoms yawned wide in March. He would run his thumb along the furry brown underside before fanning them out into patterns, alternating between the green sides and brown sides. Being with her and smelling magnolia summoned potent, two-fold nostalgia.

Digging around under the sink, he located an unopened a box of nicotine patches. He thought they were silly, but purchased them anyway to prove something to you: that he kept his promises. Poe stared blankly at the little transparent sticker before laying it on the counter, turning off the light. He took three steps, returned to the bathroom and applied the clear square, examining his reflection.

He looked like his father, they shared the same intensity in the eyes and the same sharp jawline. But Poe didn’t feel like his father’s son, because Kes didn’t raise a coward. Thinking about crashing into his ex was like getting lost in a fun house hall of mirrors. Each reflection watching, waiting for him to make a move. He needed to navigate out, but kept bumping into himself.

Poe paced the living room, biting the inside of his cheek before fishing a hidden pack of cigarettes from behind the record player. Easing himself onto the steps outside the front door, he watched the sun come up on Kadena. Poe flicked the Marlboro and watched the purple sky turn golden, one ray at first, then dozens ushering in the sun. He stroked B.B.’s floppy ears, wondering how he was going to explain his smashed face. The truth was messy.

You were sleeping on your side, a leg slung over a body pillow. Poe stood in the the doorway for a while, his chest overcome with heaviness when he saw your outline in the faint light. Finally, he laid down, on top of the covers so as not to disturb you. Your hand reached out in the darkness and he met it, interweaving his guitar-worn fingers in yours like a tapestry.

Voice still firmly anchored in sleep, you asked, “Are you leaving already?”

His voice was soft, remorseful. “No, Corazón.”

“Good. …Don’t ever leave me,” you mumbled, eyes still welded shut.

Poe gazed at your hand, limp with sleep in his. Two rings were stacked on your left hand: one picked out for you, one passed on to you. Both were given to you by Poe, and he meant it. He lifted it to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss into the delicate skin on the back of your hand even though his mouth pulsed with pain still.

“I won’t.”

——

Your fingers smoothed over the bands, alternating between glazed and unglazed. The texture was pleasant. Rows of ceramic vessels lined the shelves of the minimalist home Baze and Chirruit shared with their niece, each unique. Wide. Tall. Curved. Straight. A plethora of colors, mostly muted and contemporary.

“You guys made every one of these?” Poe asked, impressed.

Baze hummed, yes. Kaori stood over the sink, scraping some leftover tsukemono off a dinner plate. The vinegar of the pickled vegetables was bothering Poe’s busted lip too much to finish it.

“These are all thrown with a wheel, or...?” Poe asked. 

“Some wheel, some tools, some freehand. We like to really explore the medium, “ Chirruit explained. The couple had run the pottery studio and shop for years, honing their craft with precision. The bond they shared resulted in lovely pieces, a result of Chirruit’s intuitive sculpting and Baze’s painstaking glaze finishing.

You handed him a piece, heavy, with a tall neck. The blind artist ran his hands over it. “Ah. I love this one, but I almost ruined it. It nearly collapsed on the wheel. When the porcelain is this thin, one little move is all it takes. The whole foundation can come down, ruining everything you’ve built.”

Poe’s heart plummeted under the weight of Chirruit’s words. It was like he was being spoken to directly, receiving a sage warning from a friend.

He didn’t pull away when Mandy dipped her fingertip in a drop of blood on his bottom lip.  
He didn’t pull away when she stepped even closer, closing the gap between their sweaty bodies.

He didn’t pull away when her eyes closed and she leaned in.

He didn’t pull away when a tremor of desire shook the core of him.

He didn’t pull away until his eyes were closed, close enough to feel the pull of her inhalation and sense the warmth of her waiting lips. Only then, did he take a clumsy step back, his eyes springing open as he gasped in shock at himself.

Again, he tried to convince himself that he wasn’t guilty of anything. It was only his eyes, his thoughts that wandered. His hands, his tongue hadn’t gone anywhere they weren’t allowed. 

Guilt still weighed on Poe, knowing that every nerve in his body wanted to touch her in that moment. Had he moved a hair’s width closer, he would’ve kissed her, and he knew what happened more often than not when he would kiss Mandy. He turned and ran back to the apartment, a coward too afraid of temptation to speak. He didn’t think that was who he was. It wasn’t the man you married. It also wasn’t the man Kes Dameron raised.

“And what do you do?” Baze asked, looking at you. Your eyes darted between the men, unsure of the subtext, since they already knew you were an English tutor.

“I was a biochemist. I mean, I am. Just earned my Master’s before coming here, but I can’t get a research job here so now I just tutor kids like Kaori.”

Chirruit spoke, “No, he means for your soul. What do you do for your soul?”

Standing close, you brushed against Poe’s hand, and one side of his face lifted in a lopsided smile. “I spend time with my husband here.”

“Outside of that. What do _you_ do?” Baze clarified again. It was a good question, albeit one you hadn’t given much thought. Your passion and energy had been funneled between Poe and school for so long, you didn’t have a single thing that could be thought of as distinctly yours. Poe had the guitar, the motorcycle. Turning to Baze, you shrugged.

“That’s what I thought. Why don’t you come to the studio, throw some bowls with us and see if you like it?”

A grin spread across your face, and you agreed to meet Chirruit and Baze in the studio later that week. Poe squeezed your hand as he shifted weight off his ankle, excited that you seemed to be hitting it off with a couple new friends. He’d hurt it worse when he sprinted away from her, but continued running the way a wounded animal runs either until its frantic heart stops or it reaches its den. The pain was sharp but he figured he deserved it.

“Look, it’s your best friend,” you joked.  
Poe’s hazelnut eyes squinted in confusion as you displayed a small, ceramic turtle in your open palm. Kaori must’ve made this one, when she was much younger. The details were sloppy, the scale innocent like a child made it, with legs too large in proportion to its shell. A series of indigo blue dots decorated the shell in a spiral pattern, the legs glazed in a wash of chartreuse.

“Your friend, the tortoise… like the one that tried to kill you.”

“What’s that? Killer turtles?” Chirruit asked with a smile. Poe’s injuries had been the elephant in the room throughout dinner, your hosts too polite to bring it up themselves.

Replacing the colorful reptile to its place on the shelf, you elaborated. “Yeah. How did it happen again? Poe was jogging. He uh, almost tripped over some kind of turtle walking across the sidewalk. Is that right?”

Poe nodded, eyes cast down awkwardly. His tongue felt thick, too large for his mouth suddenly. “Yeah, that’s how I fell. Guess it came from some kind of retention pond or something. Didn’t see it ‘til I was right on top of it. Lost my balance avoiding it, ended up smashing my face on the pavement.”

Telling convincing lies was never a skill Poe had. This one sprang out of him when he went to kiss you goodbye in the dark and flinched when you touched the soft split in his lip. Your fingers grazed his face, feeling his swollen mouth and wet layer of burning skin on his cheek before flipping on the light to inspect him. So much concern was in your eyes as you cupped his face, and all Poe wanted to do was elude your gaze.

Stuttering out a half-baked explanation as he bolted for the front door, he didn’t return for another 12 hours and changed the subject when it came up again late. Dread simmered just under his surface thoughts, fear that he would be found out, fear that someone had seen how close he and Mandy had been.

It looked like a kiss, it was almost a kiss. Does almost count?

-—-

Soft acoustic notes were muffled through the wall, but still woke you from your afternoon nap. Poe’s voice was gravely yet sensitive, and you could make out certain lines from the song he was singing. Something about a fight, a gun. You tugged the entire comforter off the bed, wrapping it around your frame like a giant cape, and ambled to the living room.

Poe’s feet were up on the coffee table, guitar across his lap. He scrawled something on the back of a piece of junk mail, the first paper he could find to jot down an idea, before looking up at you with sunken, sleepless eyes. He was trying to make sense of his emotions, processing it through music.

Loyalty was important to him, and the fact that Mandy- of all people- was on the periphery of his thought was disturbing. She cheated, repeatedly. Poe was a fool, enabling the toxic cycle in hopes that she would only stop if she saw how much it hurt him. During their relationship, they always fought, but somehow what would start with shouts of anger would often end in moans of pleasure. Their compatibility was far more chemical than emotional, and it took Poe a while to untangle the two in his mind before finally breaking it off with her. He loved you, he didn’t love her.

Memories that seeped into his mind were intrusive and sudden. He didn’t want to remember the texture of her bare skin, the dirty messages she would leave on his voicemail when they dated a half-decade ago. It excited him, as much as he hated to admit it, but he wasn’t a cheater. No, not a cheater. A coward. Poe turned tail and ran, instead of telling his ex to her face that she was unwelcome in his new life.

Amanda was the past. You were the present, the future. Everything.

“That one’s different for you… Forlorn.”

“Sometimes I write songs like this,” Poe shrugged. The aubergine gap in his lip was healing, but a chunky scab still marked his cheek, serving as a reminder of regret every time he passed a reflective surface.

“Can I hear what you have so far?” You sat on the cozy chair next to the couch, making a cocoon out of the chinchilla grey comforter.  
Poe took a breath and looked over his notes again, before strumming. The melody was serious, purposeful. His voice was tinted with shame, although you couldn’t quite place the emotion as he sang.

_I get the feeling that it’s two against one_   
_I’m already fighting me, so what’s another one_   
_The mirror is a trigger and your mouth’s a gun_

_And if it looks to me like you in your reflection_   
_Plan to add your own fight to this dimension_   
_Then tell it this ain’t no free-for-all to see_   
_There’s only three, it’s just you and me against me_

The music communicated what his words couldn’t. What he was terrified to tell you. The anger he felt at himself, at Mandy. Poe finally looked up, and played with the machine heads even though the guitar was perfectly tuned already.

“Hmmm, it’s different but I like it. Like a secret side of you.” you teased.

Silently, he propped the guitar up next to the couch and got down on this knees, opening up the comforter around you like a tent and tucking his body between your knees. His arms slid around you and his head of mussed-up curls pressed against your chest. Your heartbeat. The heavy blanket wrapped around him. The warmth of your thighs against the inside of his arms. Amniotic, almost.  
He wanted to protect you, but was anxious about this secret blowing up in your face anyway. Blowing apart what he wanted to keep.

Poe wanted to go away, away from the base, away from Amanda in the apartment a couple buildings down, away from the entire island. Running again. Afraid to say what needed to be said. But maybe if you ran with him it would be alright.

“Babe, you wanna take a trip for your birthday?” his muffled voice came from under the comforter. “Take a weekend in Tokyo, maybe? I don’t wanna be here right now, and I know you don’t wanna here at all. Let’s just… go.”


	18. Como Tú Quieras - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe offers you a choice of sexy cliches to act out for your birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gratuitous, kinky smut. That’s all.

Poe offered a sly look as he twirled his fork in his fingers. It had been a long day on base, but he felt excited after coming home. Giddy, even because birthday was tomorrow and although he had more grand plans that involved a short trip to Tokyo, there was something up his sleeve for tonight. And he felt pretty confident you were going to enjoy it.

“Hey, do you remember those old Choose Your Own Adventure books?”

You nodded. “Like where you pick where the story will go next and skip ahead to whatever chapter that is? Yeah, I had some of those when I was a kid.”

You sipped down the rest of your sangria, eyes never breaking contact as the cool drink slid down your throat. Slightly tipsy. Poe could see that and poured himself one more to catch up, drinking it quickly.

“Well, I know your birthday isn’t ‘til tomorrow, but I wanted to start tonight cause technically it’s your birthday at midnight. But I wasn’t sure what you’d like. So you have… options.”

“What does that mean? Options like-?” you asked, sucking on a wine- infused slice of orange that you plucked from the bottom of your glass.

“Terrible, terrible romantic clichés. Chocolate. Wine. Whipped cream.” His eyebrow arched at the last one, then his voice lowered, becoming more languid as he listed the rest. “Blindfold. Handcuffs. Warm candle wax. That kinda thing.”

Wearing a hunter green shirt from your Alma Mater, a messy bun, and yoga pants, you definitely weren’t expecting to start celebrating your birthday early, much less in such an erotic fashion. You squirmed in your seat, extending your foot to brush against his under the dining table. “Those are definitely stereotypes, but they’re popular for a reason.”

He leaned forward, tucking his jaw down to tilt his lustful eyes closer. “Anything sound fun, birthday girl?”

“Oh my God, you really did get whipped cream!” You called after you got up and opened the refrigerator, surprised that he wasn’t joking.

Poe stood, wrapping his arms around you, running over the shape of your body as if he was a sculptor and you were his marble masterpiece. Over the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts. He wanted to start already, so you spun around to be face to face, smirking as he grabbed a handful of your ass with surprising force. You poised the nozzle over his mouth, but he shook his head in refusal. “I can think of a better place to put that. Let’s start celebrating you, early.”

Poe’s fingers dipped low, curling under the hem of your shirt and pulling it overhead quickly. The skin of your chest perfectly smooth, supple. His smile was lopsided and charming as he deposited some whipped cream on your chest, licking it off your erect nipples after he hoisted you onto the kitchen counter. His tongue lapped slowly, the warmth of it mingling with the cool dessert as he let out a guttural noise.

Inhibitions slightly lowered and cheeks numb, Poe realized the sangria was catching up with him. When he felt like this, he tended to pepper in Spanish a little more than usual and his voice had a barely detectable drawl from being raised in the South. Every word was drawn out just slightly, Poe hovering over the syllables. “So sweet, mi amor…”

Arousal gripped you completely now. His hands kneaded along your hips, thighs and ass, thoroughly exploring the area as Poe sucked and teased your peaked nipples. He gave you a quick pinch, sending a burst of wetness between your legs, before lifting a whipped cream- topped finger to your open lips. Seductively, you welcomed the finger into your mouth, bobbing on it to show him what he could expect soon.

“Poe? I know a cliché we can do,” you offered as his hands grazed your sticky breasts. “You’re my Latin lover… how about some Spanish dirty talk?”

A mischievous grin spread across his face. “Como tú quieras.” _As you wish_.

His mouth met yours, still sweet with traces of cream. Swirling his tongue around yours, Poe occasionally swiped against the velvety inner lining of your mouth, making you feel weak. You licked his plush bottom lip, in the final stages of healing after his fall. He was driving you crazy already. Sliding closer to the edge of the counter top, you wrap your legs around Poe and feel the outline of an erection forming. You undulated your hips to nurture it, pleading with it to grow and harden. Warmth was spreading across your body, a desire to please and be pleased by the man you loved.

“Me excitas.” _You’re turning me on_.

“Let’s see those other options…” you breathed out, your lips a millimeter apart. “Like maybe the handcuffs?”

“Good choice.”

He gripped firmly under your ass and your legs tightened around his pelvis as he carried you to the bedroom, before tossing you on the bed. Rummaging through the bedside drawer, he squinted as if something was missing. “Have you seen them?”

No, you didn’t even know they existed until he mentioned them ten minutes ago. Poe pulled open the drawer under it, reaching a hand past the shadows inside. “There. _Oh_. What’s this?”

Two things emerged: a shiny pair of handcuffs and a small vibrator.

“Don’t be threatened. It’s sentimental. That lil’ guy helped me survive while you were away at training.”

“I’m not threatened. We pilots are team players, so there’s no need to give him an early retirement.” Eyelids dropped, Poe recalled memories of you using the vibrator on yourself as you Skyped or FaceTimed, his fist urgently gliding up and down his shaft as you put on a private show. You watched in frustration at each other’s bodies through digital displays while he was doing his flight training at Vance.

Before you had a chance to say anything else, the cold metal of the handcuffs was encircling one wrist as Poe brought your arm up to the headboard. Immediately, the swelling between your legs burned from the vulnerability. His chestnut eyes were dark with seduction, hunger.

“Babe! Those handcuffs were supposed to be for you.”

“Oops.” Running a hand through his curls as his eyes crinkled, Poe made it clear he had zero regrets and no intention of freeing you any time soon. “Consider this payback for making me into a stereotype.”

His lips brushed over yours as he brought your second arm up overhead. Your upper body was immobilized and bare. Setting the key on the nightstand carefully, you husband leaned back to get a better look. Buttery soft skin, arms reaching up as you were helplessly fixed to the bed. You wanted handcuffs and dirty talk, and he wasn’t about to disappoint.

“Estás tan jodidamente caliente,” he muttered, his teeth snaring his bottom lip. _You’re so fucking hot._

Now, this would be a birthday to remember. Anticipation grew as he pulled your pants off, then slid his hands over the silky fabric of your panties. Soaked, unsurprisingly. You’d been wet since the kitchen. Trembling, you stared at the man whose potent sexual energy always left you whimpering. He traced circles over the fabric, teasing you as his fingers glided across without making direct contact. Every time your hips lifted to press into his hand, he’d back away so they skimmed you just enough to make you bite your lip. Just enough stimulation to keep the hot breath heaving in your chest, and to keep the lubrication flowing between your legs. Slipping your lace panties off, he spoke in his mother tongue again.

“Puedo hacerte sentir bien.” _I can make you feel good._

The sound of Poe’s voice was intoxicating and you spread your knees to show you were eager to receive him. One of his hands smoothed up and down your legs, the other flipped on the vibrator. You’d never used it together, it was just something you ordered on a whim one night after watching a steamy drama. Poe was really on board with it when you told him, and that’s when the dirty talk and suggestive pictures escalated into full-blown mutual masturbation Skypes.

It buzzed across your thigh and Poe dotted your neck with kisses, licking at the flickering artery just under the skin. The way he smelled reminded you of hiking, something about a thin layer of crisp snow mixing with the hardwood trees and warmth of amber. Suddenly it was over your clit, the vibrations like sonic waves pulsing through you. Instinctively, your hands tried to go down between your legs but instead jerked against the handcuffs. You had almost forgotten about those, and it reddened your wrist a little.

“Te ves bonita, atada así…” he teased. _You look so pretty, tied up like this._  
“¿Te gusta?” _Do you like it?_

You hummed in affirmation, and he moved it around in small circles as you bucked your hips in frustration. The vibrator sent pleasure crashing over your body, crashing over your thoughts. Those smoldering eyes burned down on you, and your body screamed to take all of him. Whimpering, you grew more wet as Poe dipped it lower, now penetrating you with the toy as you moaned and muttered obscenities.

So hard now, he rubbed against his crotch through his pants for a minute before he unzipped and a hand dove in. It reminded you of old times to watch as he worked his hand up and down, frustrated at your inability to touch him. Only this time it was two cool loops of chrome stopping you, instead of 1,300 miles.

“Fuck…” you gasped out. His nose ran across your cheek, and he kissed you feverishly. His tongue was sweet, faintly tasting like citrus from the drinks as it encircled yours. As good as this was, you wanted something else, especially after listening to the way the foreign words fell from Poe’s soft lips. “I want your mouth.”

“Oh, voy a devorarte… no te preocupes.” _Oh, I’m gonna devour you. Don’t fret._

The passion and filth in his voice was enough to make you melt. With that, he removed the vibrator and lifted your knees to find your glistening pussy. Waiting. Pleading. He groaned with excitement as he pressed his lips softly over the hood of your clit first. He gently lifted it by dragging his bottom him upward to expose your most sensitive area slightly. His slick tongue followed, making you shake like a leaf in Autumn.

Poe loved to go down on you, but seeing you handcuffed to the bed like this was a special treat. You were at his mercy and he was going to take his time to both worship and torture you. And you had to take it.

You were about to speak when he licked a long stripe up the wet cleft of your body, sending goosebumps up your spine before plunging his tongue between your folds. You let out an involuntary shriek and tried not to clamp your legs around Poe’s ears. 

In long strokes, his tongue explored every spot that made you cry and whine. Reaching up and down the folds with the tip of his tongue gingerly. Skimming over your clit quickly. Flattening his tongue out to give the most contact against the hot, plump tissue of your pussy. One hand still wrapped around his throbbing cock, the other massaged your ass and hip. Shaking with pleasure, you went light-headed as your creamy come was lapped up happily. The intensity of his strokes faded, and he again kissed gently between your legs.

“Quiero estar dentro de ti.” _I wanna be deep inside you._

He pulled his pants down all the way and positioned himself over your bound body. Chest heaving, your eyes were heavy after the orgasm he just gave you, and your knees spread wide across the bed. You looked like the physical embodiment of eroticism to him, kinky and desperately begging to be fucked hard.

Exposing your soft neck, you cried out as the head slipped past the barrier and filled the void you’d been so aware of. Poe’s thickness entered you swiftly, unwilling to slow himself after watching you squirm and tug against the handcuffs. So hard. Your toes curled, his cock penetrating your depth completely from this position and finding your G-spot right away. As he drew out slowly, your heightened sensitivity revealed every vein and detail of him, dropping your mouth open involuntarily. He stretched you still, every time, even when you were dripping with moisture.

“Oh, fuck me Poe! Fill me up…”

Poe brought your bent legs up high, resting your thighs on either side of your rib cage as he began to rock into you. He supported his weight on his forearms first, then leaned back to just use his palm against the mattress to go deeper. Faster than usual, because your come offered such little resistance for such a tight space. His shaft pushed into you, angling up at he reached the innermost areas of pure bliss. Your blood pumped for him, your heart beat the Morse code of his name.

The headboard you were still cuffed to knocked a rhythm against the wall, and your wrists were beginning to ache. Rolling your head from side to side, you moaned louder the faster his hips undulated. All you wanted to do was touch him, grab a fistful of his wavy, raven hair, rake thin pink streaks along the muscular curve of his shoulders. Moans slipped through his parted lips and increased the frustration of being immobile. It never subsided, so you breathed his sandalwood scent instead, trying to fill your body with him as much as possible. He was all over you, embedded as far inside of you as he could go, and yet it still wasn’t enough. More, you craved.

“Tu chocha se siente tan bien,” he huffed out. _Your pussy feels so good._

“Mmmm… Getting into the dirty talk, aren’t you?” you managed to get out while he changed position, pulling your thighs from folded up around your chest to wrapped around his ass. Your ankles hooked together, keeping him snug.

“Spanish lips, Cuban hips,” he smirked, punctuating the space between phrases with a thrust for comedic emphasis. He dipped down to give you a quick peck. “And I know you love it.”

You giggled; love was an understatement, both for how you felt about him in general and how you felt about his dirty mouth. You squeezed and clenched around his ample length, Poe becoming disheveled as he began circular grinding motions to stimulate you more.

Tight and wet. Teardrop breasts jiggling under him. Sinful moans. He wanted to impart as much physical delight as possible tonight. You deserved it, and honestly you were going to be sore tomorrow, anyway. Hell, he might even be sore from the way he’s relentlessly pounding into you, sliding most of his length out slowly before ramming it back in.  
Metal was digging into your skin as your arms grew heavier and heavier, Poe enveloping your senses completely. His body sweaty on top of your own. The dim light played against the ebony curls tumbling down his forehead. The smell of sex and sound of the headboard grazing the wall with each thrust. His taste, mixed with the sangria you were sharing earlier in the night. That voice, those words.

“Cum para mí… cum para mí…”

Breath ragged as he whispered the invitation into your ear, Poe’s movements were less precise but he was still hitting that spot deep within you that practically made your eyes cross. He knew you were about to boil over, and he craved a simultaneous release. Primal. He loved these moments just before climax, when everything else faded away and all that mattered was chasing that high. Steadying himself on his knees, he gripped both hands on your hips and buried himself deep within.

Squealing, your back arched for him.  
Closer. Don’t stop. Closer. _There_.

The sensation overflowed, like a glass filled beyond the rim. Your body clenched and spasmed around his cock, as a powerful moan broke free from your sore throat into the night. Going limp and soft, your legs broke their grip around his pelvis. Poe watched your eyes slam shut, blocking out any more stimulation to focus on the flame within you. Soon he was filling you with hot come as you whimpered and thrashed under him, your name a puff of heated air against your sweat-kissed neck. Energy spent, he retreated after a few more lazy strokes, then licked along your collarbone.

Poe unlocked the handcuffs and rubbed his thumbs into the marks they left. Still electric with sensitivity, you were a little sore already. Your arms flopped down to your sides and you realized your fingers had begun to go numb from being in that position so long. His head of messy waves rested on your sternum as your breathing settled.

Bringing his hands to cup your face, he pressed a gentle kiss to your mouth. He glanced at the clock, 12:08.

“Feliz Cumpleaños, mi amor.” _Happy birthday, love._

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow? Do I still get to choose my own adventure?”

Tired and drunk with pleasure, Poe sighed. “First sleep, then it’s adventure time. Our flight to Tokyo is in like 6 hours.”

“Deal.” Your hands skimmed over the tan skin on his back, over his hair, against his fingertips, still hungry for what you’d been craving the entire night. “I love you… and that was amazing… but shit, I think I need an ice pack.”


	19. Kaleidoscope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a trip to Tokyo, you reconnect with Poe. Then you receive some big news.

Everywhere your eyes landed, there were ostentatious fashion choices to enjoy: stuffed animals clipped to stacks of colorful belts, rainbow hair and animal ears, elaborate Lolita outfits that looked like something from another century. People watching in the Harajuku district was your favorite part of Tokyo so far.

You sat on a bench with Poe, sharing some takoyaki after window-shopping in a bunch of stores on Takeshita Street. Tourists asked to take pictures of the teenagers with the most loudest style or accessories, but you were both content to just watch.

“Yeah, Chirruit has been helping me with the wheel. He says bowls are the easiest when you first begin in ceramics, but I’m still a ways off.”

“When does your piece get fired?”

“Please.” You popped another fried ball into your mouth, surprised at how good octopus could taste. “I haven’t made anything remotely worth firing.”

He was relieved to see your spirits lift after being so frustrated since arriving. Poe knew that you didn’t appreciate spinning your wheels after working years for your degree, but didn’t realize how much it would hurt you. Getting out of the house to tutor and to visit the ceramics studio for classes was helping remedy a lot of the loneliness he was so worried about, and Jyn had started to pop by to spend some time with you when Cassian and Poe were running sorties late.

“Now, that’s not true.”

“It’s so hard! He and Baze make it look so effortless. I don’t even understand how someone can make pottery so perfectly, much less making it perfectly without being able to see. It’s unbelievable.”

“Well, when you get there I’m sure it’ll be beautiful. You just need to have some confidence.” Poe pulled you into his lap, pressing a kiss onto your cheek.

“You and your confidence. I might not be confident in this, but you know I’m too stubborn to give up anything I start. It’ll be hideous, but I’ll make something.”

“I’d be fun if you came. I know the class is during the day, but maybe when you have a decent chunk of crew rest.”

“Only if we act out that scene from Ghost.” He stole a bite of takoyaki. “But then I’d be dead, which would kill the vibe.”

Shaking your head, you shot Poe an mock incredulous look. “But you’d need to be dead… How can you be a ghost if you’re not dead?”

“Forget the pottery wheel, then. It’s just too dangerous. I’ll be Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing, you can be Baby.”

Living overseas sounded incredible to him, but when you both arrived in Japan, it felt like life skidded out of control. Between his close call with his ex and your sudden dip in mental well-being, Poe found himself disoriented. It should be like this all the time, he thought, experiencing the local culture together with wide eyes between periods of hard work.

Between battling his own demons of temptation and learning the ropes as a newest member of the 44th Fighter Squadron, he hadn’t supported you as much as he wanted to. Poe wasn’t a fan of secrets, but worried admitting that Mandy lived a stone’s throw away and that he’d interacted with her this late would be an admission of guilt. In his eyes, you needed something positive to look forward to, not another source of anxiety.

Poe hoped this little weekend trip would serve as a sort of reset button on the relationship and get you both smiling again. From the look on your face as you walked hand-in-hand through the kaleidoscope city, it was working. The smile you wore here was genuine, easy. Your head found his shoulder as you walked, leaning affectionately on his toned body.

After some milling around and admiring group of particularly impressive anime cosplayers, Poe got you a stack of macarons from the Kawaii Monster Cafe. The decor inside was overwhelming, pastel everything. Characters and oversized treats were tucked into every corner of the shop, so cute you thought you were going to enter a diabetic coma.

“But it’s little bear! I can’t eat him… he’s too cute.”

Poe ducked his head down to your hands, nipping off a bite of the macaron.

“No- Don’t eat him! Now he’s only got one ear!” You laughed. “You’re the monster here.”

“He tastes like key lime pie, though. It’s his destiny to be eaten. Let him fulfill his destiny!”

You posed for a birthday picture in front of a merry-go-round shaped like a giant cake, surrounded by unicorns. Being here was all about embracing the unusual, and you kept catching glimpses of Poe through it. Deep crinkles sprouting from the corners of his hazelnut eyes, his smile was like a lightning strike. Sure, he was smiling out of amusement, but you sensed there was something to talk about. In a different way than the last couple weeks, lighter. Happier. Hopeful.

——

A class of young children passed, no older than 7, chattering amongst themselves in matching uniforms. Poe ripped a piece of bread with his hands and dipped it in his coffee as he watched them cross the street in front of the restaurant.

“They’re really cute. You don’t want one?”

“What- a schoolgirl uniform?” You asked, confused.

His eyebrow shot up and he deadpanned, “That can be arranged… I’m making a mental note for later.”

Rolling your eyes, you mixed some nattō into a bowl of rice. The smell of the fermented beans nearly made you gag, but you figured it would be silly to have an American breakfast in the heart of Japan. Poe didn’t agree and was happy to find they offered the familiarity of scrambled eggs.

“No. I’m talking about a kid. You know… having a kid.”

The chopsticks fumbled from your hands. It had been over a year since the ectopic pregnancy that devastated you both. For so long, you tried not to think about it. Then you were thankfully distracted by life coming at you rapidly, submitting your thesis, graduation, Poe finishing UPT, moving across the world together. Time helped, but it was still a loss you felt deeply.

Poe backtracked, frowning as he reached across the table. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna upset you.”

“No, it’s okay. We can talk about it.”

“Well… I’ve been thinking about the future and was just thinking.” He looked out the window, a faint smile on his face as the early morning light flooded in. “Maybe we could try?”

“Try? Like, now?”

“Yeah, if you’re ready. We’re married, have insurance, and you can’t find a research position right now anyway. It seems like good timing.”

“Umm. I have an IUD. And you’re gone an awful… It’s just scary, what if you were deployed or something?” You twisted the post of your earring between your thumb and first finger.

“We’d figure it out. We always do, right?”

You nodded, but looked away from his eyes. “Sometimes I kinda miss the days when you were an engineer instead of a pilot. You didn’t work this hard when you were stationed at MacDill.”

“Hey.” Poe’s voice was soft. “It’s scary for me, too. Especially after… everything. But that’s not gonna happen again. I just thought, maybe if you were up to it we could try. But I understand if it’s too soon.”

“It’s been over a year now.”

“I know. I think about her every day.”

Her. Three letters that still shredded your heart. Even finding out the sex had been re-traumatizing for both of you, a while after the surgery itself. It caused a big fight while he was away at the training program. Poe was infuriated and wounded that you kept such a significant secret from him, especially after he told you he wished he knew what sex the baby was. Ultimately you found out: a girl.

You often thought about what could have been too, but it was different hearing Poe talk about it. His deep voice resonated with a level of hope that you weren’t sure you could ever possess when it came to starting a family. His parents were loving to him, loyal to each other. He wanted to be like them.

“Let me make an appointment and we’ll see if I get the all-clear from the doctor. Then we’ll talk?”

Poe had been allowing himself to entertain blips of thought on fatherhood for some time. Handprints pressed into salt dough and hung as Christmas ornaments. Crafting expert-level blanket forts. Kissing a skinned knee at the playground. It was the natural progression of things, as far as he was concerned. Dream girl, coolest job ever, a perfect little family with 2 kids and a picket-fenced yard for B.B. to run around in.

As excited as he was that you seemed receptive to the idea, he didn’t want the subject to dominate the last day of your weekend. Smile lines crinkled the skin around his eyes as he looked over his plate at you.

“So. Should I order you one, then?”

“Order what? Another breakfast?” The bowlful of nattō in front of you remained uneaten. Some things were more palatable in theory than in reality, this traditional meal being one of them.

“A Japanese schoolgirl uniform. Strictly for conception purposes, of course.”

You kicked him playfully under the table. “You’d better get me some scrambled eggs before you even think of fertilizing these eggs.”

———

Tokyo was alive with lights and signs. Poe stood at the window, watching advertisements flicker and people mill around on the sidewalk below. The city is an ant farm, he thought. The Air Force, another ant farm. He felt small and claustrophobic here suddenly, where the buildings stretched against the gravity of Earth in a show of dominance. Walking through the city and even riding the crowded subway earlier didn’t give him that impression.

His phone buzzed, a text message from Cassian.

The bathroom door opened and he was pulled from his inner thoughts. You spun around in a burgundy dress that dipped low and hugged your curves, ready to go dancing in Tokyo on your last night before heading back to the Kadena base. The color matched the sangria you both indulged too much in the night before your birthday, when Poe thrilled you by handcuffing you to the bed and whispering in Spanish through the night. Simply recalling it made your heart beat faster, knowing was likely going to happen again after going to the club.

“Wow. You look… Wow.”

“I believe you were saying something about Dirty Dancing earlier?”

His eyelids lowered halfway as he surveyed the silhouette of your body. “We could stay here, just skip to the dirty.”

“Stop…” you flirted back.

He put both hands up innocently and looked away, “It’s just- I’m gonna get all I can _while_ I can.”

The smile drained from your face. “Wait. What?”

Poe’s hickory eyes darted back to yours across the room and he realized he said it out loud. Awkwardly, he swallowed a mouthful of his own saliva. Drawing in a deep inhalation, he stood from the chair by the window and motioned for you to sit next to him on the bed. He brought his knees up, crossing his legs under him. Hesitantly, you joined him.

“There’s a _situation_. The details are still fuzzy but a couple squadrons have already received orders.”

Your throat closed in on itself, crushing your vocal chords as you tried to speak. No sound passed through. Poe wrung his hands, eyes filled with worry.

“Cassian just texted me. There’s a really strong possibility we’re heading to the Middle East.”

Shoulders slumping, your feet dangled over the edge of the bed as you looked at your husband. Finally, you were together again. He’d be gone for a few days at a time, sure, but most of the time he was able to kiss you goodnight just like when you two shared the duplex with Finn. At Kadena, there was a semblance of normalcy. You were ready to consider starting a family, even. This wasn’t right, you hadn’t come all this way to be separated by cruel geography again so soon.

“We just got here!” Tears started to heat the space behind your eyes but the dam hadn’t been breached yet. “They can’t just send you off like this. They can get someone else.”

“Corazón- My heart may belong to you, but Uncle Sam owns my ass.”

The glare you shot him was the focused beam of light through a magnifying glass, burning the shiny ants that Poe had been imagining moments earlier. He wasn’t about to get away with a joke, not now. That penchant for humor in inappropriate situations was charming sometimes, but not when it came to this.

His hand reached out to yours, and rested on top to soften your anger. “We haven’t received orders yet. But the 44th’s due for a tour of duty, if shit hits the fan.”

Your lip began to tremble as your mind screamed within your skull. No. People died out there. He couldn’t go. You remembered your earlier comment, about how you sometimes missed the simplicity of him being an engineer. Ironic that it was spoken only hours before. Burying your head in his shoulder, you allowed your tears to fall freely. Poe’s hands caressed your back in an attempt to comfort both of you. Minutes passed, your quaking body in his arms.

“Why? Why the Air Force?!”

He pulled back slightly, searching your pink eyes with confusion. In that moment you looked so fragile, like an precious chinadoll falling the floor.

“Why, if you wanted to be a pilot, why join? Couldn’t you have just gotten a license and worked for an airline?”

Fighting the initial instinct to become defensive, Poe laid down on his side and curled his legs up halfway. You followed, your forehead against his.

“Did I ever tell you why my dad wanted to be Special Forces?”

You shook your head. Never.

“My grandpa, paternal side, he was a political prisoner. Mass imprisonment was really bad in the ‘60s under Castro, and he was taken shortly after my dad was born.” Poe brushed a clump of hair from your wet cheek before continuing. “My grandma fled with my dad and Aunt Leia.”

“What happened to him?” Realizing you were still wearing the high heels you had planned to go dancing in, you slipped them off and they knocked to the floor by the foot of the bed.

“We’re not sure. Cuban government’s story was that he died of natural causes, but my grandma always believed he was executed. My grandpa was never an American, but my dad was proud to be. So he served.”

Your brow furrowed. The legacy Kes laid down made a lot of sense considering the end his father met. You had known that flying, as much as he loved it, was always about more than fun or feeling cool for Poe because his mother had been a pilot. It was a connection to her, just like the smooth band of metal that encircled your ring finger.

Fingertips whispered along his hairline, cheek, jaw. Studying him, memorizing the topography of his bone structure. Thick stubble dusted the bottom half of his face, since he’d been away from work for a few days. Poe’s eyes were wistful, the emotions within them complicated.

He looked just like Kes in the photos of the faded album at home, except for the signature crown of loose curls he inherited from his mother. You wondered if he looked like his abuelo, Kes’s father. There weren’t any photos of him in your home, and all that Poe spoke of him before tonight was that he died in Cuba long before Poe was born.

“I might not understand all the politics, but I’ll go where they need me.”

“I need you, too.” Your voice cracked. Guilt wasn’t the response you wanted to stir within him, but this was the truth. This was different than him going to the pilot training in Vance, where he made a point to hop on a plane to see you every three-day weekend and played guitar for you on Skype. This was war, and it looked like the love of your life would be getting into an F-16 to fly directly into it.

Confidence was something he exuded effortlessly, and every time you saw that faulter it was a little scary, like a chink in the armor that could eventually shred into a lethal weakness. Poe, the young pilot who saw life as an adventure and service as his duty. It hurt to see his heavy eyes hazed with dread when they usually sparkled with hope.

“We don’t know yet, it’s mostly rumors.” He sighed. Your face was shrouded with sadness and his chest felt like it was filled with heavy boulders, stacked and wedged between his ribs. This meant so much to him, even if he was terrified to go.

Poe knew it Cass wouldn’t text him like that without good cause, but he wished he hadn’t seen it. Not yet. He should’ve been busy swishing his hips along with yours, trailing his hands up your body as music coursed through you. The text should’ve went unread, at least until the morning. He wished for one more night, carefree with you. A night of teasing and dancing and ultimately bliss when you arrived back at the hotel. You both needed that. You needed each other.

 


	20. Redemption- Pt. 1 - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Savoring the last hours before Poe deploys to Yemen, you accidentally share more than intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a little smut here in the beginning but it’s an important moment (and not as graphic as my other stuff) so don’t skip this chapter.

When he was away, you always found yourself missing little things, like his sigh as he cracked his knuckles before bed. The way he would kiss between B.B.’s floppy ears and tousle them. How he would dip any type of bread into any warm beverage, no matter how odd the flavor combination seemed. Just missing… Poe.

As soon as you tried to open your eyes, you realized how swollen they were from crying because you’d be missing him again soon. Raindrops drummed against the window of your hotel room, high above the dim streets of Tokyo. Some morning traffic had begun to fill the block with ambient noise, filtering softly through the walls. Stumbling to the bathroom, you glanced at the mirror and were taken aback by the severity of the reflection. You fished a makeup wipe out of your travel bag and gave your face a once-over then ran soothing water over your eyelids.

Poe’s leg was dangling off the bed, and he was still fully dressed in a black button-down and slim slacks. He hadn’t even taken his belt or watch off, or bothered to get under the covers,  too preoccupied on comforting you after receiving that fateful text message from Cassian. Always sprawled out like that, you wondered if he was making snow angels in his dreams. Annoying as it could be, you missed his body sucking up all the space when he wasn’t there.

Still wearing your dress, the two of you had focused on each other so much overnight that you fell asleep ensconced in Poe’s arms. You slipped the dress down and slid your nude body next to your sleeping husband. Watching his chest rise and fall faintly in his dress shirt, you tried to ignore the possibility of him going into a conflict zone. There might even be orders for deployment waiting for him right now, you thought briefly.

“Wake up…” you whispered, pressing a kiss into the soft patch of skin just behind his earlobe.

He straightened his legs and threw his bent arms behind his head, barely rousing. Gently unbuttoning his shirt, you took care to not shock him awake. Finally you opened it, eyes falling on the trail of hair that looped around his navel and led below his belt. A hand rested there, rubbing against the hair softly. Grumbling slightly, Poe shifted his hips in response to the warmth.

You wanted Poe, not knowing for sure if or when he might have to get into the cockpit and fly to some decimated, war-torn country. Whenever he left, you had an overwhelming desire for the imprint of his body, as if his DNA would be embossed into your skin to carry always.

One hand undid his belt slowly, nearly silently, before taking his zipper down. Slipping under his waistband, your fingertips followed the hair line until you palm found him. Soft, dormant. His head fell to one side of the pillow as your hands cupped around him, then slowly stroking as he came to attention.

Twisting at the wrist as your hand came down around him, you squeezed him slightly more on the downstroke like you knew he enjoyed. His hips bolted forward, apparently in surprise because he was still in a fog of sleep.

“ _Mmmmm_ … You’re so good to me.”

“You’re a good husband. Let me take care of you,” you replied. Poe didn’t feel like this was entirely true, but wasn’t about to argue when your plush lips were kissing the head of his penis.

Hollowing your cheeks, you ran your hand along the base of his erection while you sucked. The thick lashes of his eyes parted, watching you bob up and down, complex emotions distilled into the act of serving him.

Last night you were both broken-hearted, and Poe saw this as a rainbow after a storm; only the storm hadn’t rolled in yet. For now, you were just reacting to the threat of thunder off in the distance.

He felt the same way you did every time he was pulled from your side. Yearning for more and more contact, anxious. Separation took its toll and hurried phone calls weren’t comparable to long nights curled up on the couch, conversation meandering through the night.

Admittedly, ‘leaving/returning sex’ was kind of your _thing_ as a couple. That was why he made the off-color joke about it as soon as he learned about the possible combat orders. Such is the life of a pilot, but it fostered a certain tension between you: impassioned lovemaking before he left and heated fucking when he returned, usually but not exclusively in that order.

“Corazón... ease up,” Poe pleaded, moving a hand from its resting spot on the side of his pillow to softly cradle the back of your head. His morning voice, like truck tires on a gravel country road, always turned you on.

With a few more slow sucks up and down his hard length, you gave him a final, drawn-out spiral with your tongue. He jerked with pleasure and his open mouth turned up at the corners, before he slid his pants lower and brought his foot up to pull the leg down. His buttoned shirt was still open, highlighting the contrast between his black hair and olive skin.

Morning sex was one of Poe’s favorite things in the world. Before he left for the flight training at Vance, he’d routinely head to the kitchen to make some cafe con leche, then bring the warm cup back to the bedroom, sharing sips as you lazily spent your Sundays exploring each other’s bodies. He used to joke, “With sugar?” as he kissed you, then “…or with cream?” as his fingers plunged into your silky pajama shorts. Although _Poe_ was sexy, you couldn’t really say the same for the joke itself. Then again, he didn’t need a comedy routine when he’d split his fingers into a V shape to warm you up instead going for your clit or straight into penetration. Such a thoughtful lover.

Caressing, squeezing and kneading your thighs and ass, Poe looked at you with admiration and lust. He knew in his heart that he was going soon. No idea how long, little clue as to how dangerous. He needed this, needed you. Turning to pin you down, his intense eyes met yours as your legs parted around him. Pupils wide with desire, his eyes were nearly pure black, yet when he moved the dim light of the morning caused them to sparkle like the Aurora Borealis. Every atom in your body cried out for him.

Inhaling your perfume’s notes of vanilla and mandarin, Poe thought back to the sensual trip you took just before he left for Vance, in a hotel room much like this. Terrified of the hardship of distance, part of him was convinced that would be your last time making love. Today, nearly a year and half after that night, he knew that together you could get through it. You could get through anything, if he could make it out alive.

Deeper. More. Deeper. Please. Right… There.

Twisting around a loose curl that hung down around your finger, you followed the contours of his face and paused in the small dip just beneath his cheekbone. A small scar rested there, on his right side. You wanted this image of him seared into memory, even though the valley under his eyes was tinted violet, and stress brought the vein in his forehead into sharp relief. Sadness and worry aged him temporarily, but there was so much sincerity in his expression.

Slowly, Poe began to pump into you, gyrating while your hands interlaced, resting on either side of your head now. A soft moan of pleasure resonated in your ear as he pushed deeper within, warmth spreading through the core of you. Endless perfection to him, and he was even more grateful to receive your body at times like these. Then again, there had never before been a time quite like this before. Distance is one thing, mortal danger another.

“ _Mi corazón_ …” My heart. He wasn’t sure if he was calling you his heart, like always, or if he was referring to his heartbreak. Both.

Sealing your eyes, you were a torn between looking into Poe’s soulful face again and maintaining a thin veneer of composure through it. He wasn’t sliding in and out so much as grinding into you, keeping it deep. It felt phenomenal, nearly sending you to the place where vision blurred and your usually articulated words turned to nonsense, but you couldn’t abandon the sorrow that flowed from the wound in your heart to fully enjoy this moment.

Whispering your name, Poe stared at your face as you gripped around him, cooing with bliss. Mouth slightly open, dropped lids protecting the brilliant, intelligent eyes he’d cherished since your first meeting. He wanted to engulf you, assimilate you. Nothing else mattered to him. Only you. Only now. To think of anything else would be masochistic.

As he brushed under your eye, a small tear clung to his finger. The heaviness of last night returned to his stomach, and his movements slowed as he steadied himself with a deep breath. He needed the connection of your eyes desperately, but you were afraid that once they locked, your emotions would spill over in a devastating landslide.

His hips slid in slow, controlled movements over your own, just enough stimulation to keep the fire inside stoked. Poe’s voice was a low register.

“Amor, please look at me.”

Wedged in your throat was a sob, close to breaking free. You shook your head, eyes still locked behind your swollen lids. “I can’t.”

Your answer skewered him, and he stopped moving over you completely to comprehend.

“I’m afraid.”

“I’m afraid, too. It’s not like I’m excited to go,” he breathed.

Finally colliding in a spectacle of emotional wreckage, the events of yesterday, and the last few months crashed over you: Fear. Anger. Sorrow. A little resentment.

“You don’t understand. You talk about wanting to have a baby but you wouldn’t be the one stranded alone with it while your partner gets shot at. You’re not the one who almost died.”

The words were like shards of broken glass caught in a rug, slicing through Poe unexpectedly.

“Where is this coming from? Do you think it was easy for me to see you go through that? To be forced to leave when you needed me, when I needed to be there for you? I lost something, too. It tore me apart.” Poe choked on the last sentence. “And it tears me apart that I’m leaving again.”

“You don’t get to decide when that-“

“ _What_? I’m not deciding anything without you.”

Something within you snapped, backing up into the headboard as he slid out of the space between your thighs. The sudden gap between you was cold, a void.

He was bewildered. How had a tender moment turned so swiftly into a fight? And a fight about trying to conceive, while he was pouring his love into you physically. At a time when you couldn’t conceive, and that was fine for now. He couldn’t understand- he’d agreed yesterday to drop the subject until you saw a doctor.

Without turning to him, you stood and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door. Poe sat up, pulling his pants back on. He didn’t want to spend the last hours in Tokyo in a fight, and he especially didn’t want to leave for his mission on such a sour note. Reaching for his phone, he found one new message sent overnight.

 **Cassian Andor:** Training wheels are coming off. Come in when you’re back at Kadena.

The water in the shower hissed on, and you curled up at the bottom of the tub feeling conflicted about letting your thoughts bubble to the surface. He needed to know how you felt about him bringing up trying to get pregnant, but to tell him now? It was an accident, those dark thoughts tearing through your mouth when it should have been praises of love.

When you finally emerged in a towel, you found Poe on the chair looking out the window again, holding his phone. A deja vu of last night just before he shared the news. His forehead mapped a series of ridges and his bottom lip was being chewed.

“Maybe I was naive. Things were going well at work and I can provide for you. I was… I just thought this could make us really happy.”

“Having a baby doesn’t make someone happy. It doesn’t work like that.”

Poe’s eyes grew wide. “You don’t want to have a family with me? But I thought?”

“I…” Words grew unfamiliar, awkward. “I don’t think I’m ready and this just sucks.”

“This. Being… together?”

“No, no. Not being together. This whole situation. I don’t expect life to be easy but it feels like we keep going through Hell. And now you might be literally going to a Hellish place.”

He gestured to his phone and nodded. You knew what that meant. The 44th Fighter Squadron was being called to duty.

“ _Fuck_. You know, most women in my situation would only be concerned about two things: you getting hurt or you cheating. But here you are, wanting to knock me up and I’m arguing about it.”

Poe’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of his phone and checked the time. Four more hours ‘til the flight back to Okinawa, and immediately after he’d be reporting for the mission briefing. Leaving today was a possibility, and he had to get a weight off his chest.

“Can you get dressed? There’s something I need to tell you.”

—-

**One Month Earlier**

_“Yeah, thanks… Our wedding day. In Italy.”_

_You ran your hand along the golden picture frame. Poe was wearing his signature, electric smile and his deep blue service dress uniform. You were wearing a simple, white lace dress and holding a petite bouquet of peonies. Venice’s water in the background created a beautiful bokeh of light behind you. Facing each other, utter adoration in your eyes. It was your favorite picture, ever._

_“He was stationed there?” She asked._

_The guest moved through the living room, eyes surveying the shelves of records, hanging plants and small travel mementos scattered about. Loose Polaroid photos and a concert stub tucked into the lip of a framed drawing from a local artist back in Tampa. Little bits of your history and private life together, told through objects._

_Poe’s acoustic guitar was still propped next to the couch. It never seemed to find its way back into the case, because he tended to absentmindedly pluck and strum chords while winding down after a day of flight as you finished dinner._

_“No, he just kinda whisked me off. Kinda spur of the moment after his pilot training. It was actually ridiculously romantic,” you recounted._

_“That sounds like him.”_

_Your eyebrows raised in confusion. “What?”_

_“That sounds like it. Romantic, I mean.”_

_B.B. followed you into the kitchen, where you grabbed two tins of tea, a bottle of Pinot Grigio and a Milkbone for the dog. “So, tea or wine?”_

_“Uh, wine please. Thanks. I know how hard it can be to move somewhere miles and miles away from everyone you care about. It’s tough.” The guest took the glass and put her feet up on the ottoman._

_“Yeah. It definitely has been, but I’m meeting people slowly. And I started tutoring high school kids in English, so that’s been helpful for the boredom.”_

_“Cool, are you a teacher?”_

_“Nah, I was a chemistry major. Not exactly a wealth of those jobs available to me here, though. The plan was to do pharmaceutical research but... here we are.”_

_“That’s too bad.”_

_“Yeah, but we’re trying to make the best of it, though. Have an adventure in Japan or whatever.”_

_You let out a light laugh before continuing,_ “ _I’m glad I met you, Mandy. It’s nice to make a friend who’s also a neighbor.”_


	21. Redemption- Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe decides he can’t leave with his secret hanging over your relationship.

_Poe scratched at his arm, wedging Appalachian dirt under his fingernails. “It’s just a dick move. I don’t know why he didn’t just break up with her first. She’s definitely gonna find out when Spring Break’s over.”_

_Kes squinted against the sun and took another swing of the water bottle before handing it to his teenage son. They started back up the ridge, overlooking a ragged tree line. The cool air at this elevation was pleasant, but thin. Morning dew still clung to the grass along the trail, turning the dust around Poe’s ankles into mud as he walked._

_“You and your friends are becoming young men now. And a man’s word is his bond. Even if he’s 17.”_

_“I know. I wasn’t the one who cheated on my girl.” Poe felt defensive, but didn’t know quite why. He tossed his head to get his hair off his forehead and adjusted his backpack.  
_

_“Military husbands have a stereotype of being unfaithful. And a lot are, but me and your mom?” Kes paused and held up two crossed fingers. “I was stationed away a lot, and there are pretty girls everywhere you go. I noticed, of course, but never wanted to. But I could’ve.”_

_“Mom would’ve broken your teeth.” Poe and his father laughed in unison._

_“Point is: When I gave her this,” Kes gestured to the gold wedding band he wore on a chain around his neck, “I meant it. Loyalty and trust, that’s everything.”_

_———_

Breathy words fell like snowflakes from your quivering lip, melting into the air so faintly they were nearly inaudible. “…what have you done?”

Poe was terrified. How could he possibly communicate how much you meant to him? He made a mistake, guarded a small secret to spare you additional stress, but then it grew. Keeping that secret was like feeding a vicious wildcat: you either continue feeding it to keep the peace, or prepare to be mauled. “We didn’t do anything, it’s not like that,” Poe blurted out as your hot eyes shot up at him. “She said hi to me and I told her to leave me alone. Bodhi and Cass were right there, they’ll tell you.”

Running your tongue along your teeth, you felt yourself growing numb and your hand slid off his knee. Crossing your arms, you tried to examine Poe’s face. His gaze was soft and remorseful, but you couldn’t be sure how honest he was being.

Unable to control the physical distance between you as he was forced to go overseas, he could attempt control the emotional distance he had created. He wasn’t going to leave Japan a coward- and the only way to do that would be to rip himself open, exposing himself for the flawed man he was. He wanted to be more than that, the ideal husband you so deserved. Dread was like descending a pitch-black staircase toward an unknown destination, and it permeated Poe’s thoughts. This was already in motion, no backing out, no running. Poe struggled to form each sentence carefully, precision of language and radical honesty the only tools in his worn hands.

“I… the night I had my accident…”

Vertigo.

“We bumped into each other and--“

“You fucked her! Oh my God…” A hand slapped over your mouth as it hung open, chest burning with betrayal.

“NO! Let me speak.” The timbre of his voice raised, not from anger but from stress. “I really did fall on the sidewalk during a run, but I lied. The reason I fell was because I bumped into her, literally, in the dark. She was running too.”

“So you’ve been seeing her?! Secretly?”

“Stop. _No_. I just didn’t tell you.”

“Don’t tell me to stop! That’s exactly what a secret is!”

Poe stood, gesturing as he paced around the hotel room aimlessly. Window, bathroom door frame, window, foot of the bed. “No, it’s not. ‘Seeing her’ makes it sound like we’re messing around, making an effort to interact. I crashed into her in the dark, on accident. That’s all. We don’t talk. We don’t hang out.”

“I don’t wanna argue semantics with you… just tell me. You slept with her but didn’t plan to? Is that what you’re saying?” The chill in your voice was strange, almost like it was a recording and not a real-time response.

“It’s. Not. Like. That. I never slept with her, not since we’ve been together. I had no idea she was out there either, it was really early in the morning. I turned a corner and smacked right into her.” He only made eye contact for a brief moment before looking back down at his calloused hands again.

All at once it hit you: Your neighbor. She told you her name was Mandy when she bent down to pet B.B. during your walks around the neighborhood, and talked about how much she liked being close to the ocean. You struck up a bit of a friendship during the walks you’d take before Poe would get home, first exchanging hellos or generic pleasantries.

In your home. Petting your dog. Drinking your wine. She even picked up Poe’s guitar and ran her hand along the frets. She knew who you were, you used Poe’s name when you mentioned him causally. She even looked right at the photo Oddy took on your wedding day, remarking on how pretty it was as if she didn’t know who you were the entire time. Fucking snake.

You mentioned that she’d come over for a glass of wine one evening when Poe was away for a few days, but she left quickly and never seemed to be quite at ease. He’d been so tired, you couldn’t even remember if he muttered a response into the pillow when you told him. You only exchanged a couple weak waves as she jogged by since then, and couldn’t figure out why.

“She… she came over. To hang out with me.”

Poe’s brain short-circuited. He stared blankly, struggling to comprehend exactly what you meant.

“Mandy, right?! Is that what she goes by? ‘Cause you didn’t call her that- You called her Amanda. Why?”

“Uh… because I don’t call people I hate by pet names. I used to call her that, a long time ago.” Poe looked at you in a haze of confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t turn this around on me,” you snapped. “Did you know? Did you know she befriended me? Did she tell you?!”

“No, no, no… I told you, we don’t talk. I just saw her when she said hi and when I ran into her. That’s it.” Poe was speechless for a while, picking at his cuticles. “I- I don’t know. I’m sure she knows exactly who you are. She knows I’m married, I made sure of that. God, she’s conniving…”

“I didn’t know it was her. She didn’t say anything but obviously she knows. I invited her into our _home_.”

You felt sick at the thought Poe keeping secrets about the beautiful ex-girlfriend who happened to live close by. He didn’t elaborate on their relationship when it came up in conversation long ago, other than her cheating and Poe’s foolhardly insistence on seeing the good in her, taking her back after she was caught more than once.

“If I’d told you that morning, would you have believed that nothing happened between us? …I don’t think you believe me now.”

“Why now, weeks later? What else is there?”

Poe stopped pacing, turning to you with glassy eyes. He slumped over to the bed, curling his body over his legs before you. Searching for the right words, he lifted his head to face to you, sitting upright against the headboard.

“I love you.” He spoke after several moments of contemplation, almost a whisper. His forehead was a series of rippling sand dunes, the ends of his brows pushed up high above his nose.

Disdain welled up in your voice, “Don’t do that. That’s not what I asked.”

“Uhhh, it’s nothing. She tried to kiss me. No, she almost did but I just left. I went home to you. I didn’t even touch her.”

Stamping painful dimples into your palm with your nails, your fist shook. The image seared in your mind, this harpy leaning in to put her mouth on your husband. Ears flushed with anger, you imagined Poe's hands finding the nape of her neck to explore her mouth deeper. You tried not to imagine other things he’d might’ve explored with her, especially knowing their history. “…How can I believe you?”

“What?” Poe looked wounded, as if he wasn’t expecting any resistance to his assertion of innocence. He rocked back to rest on his shins now.

Deserving of your anger, your husband knew you’d be skeptical. It was part of your nature usually, and anyone would be dubious given the situation he described. That was the entire, misguided reason he kept his secrets, thinking an innocent secret is always a benign one. And yet, he struggled not to take it personally when you looked at him the way one would regard a known street scammer, using the same line on the same people in the same parking lot, month after month in search of gullibility and pocket money.

“You’re telling me now because you don’t want to ship out with guilt hanging over you. But you’re not telling me because you think I need to know. This is a burden you’re handing over before leaving.”

Poe knew you were right, it was unfair to bring this up and run away, even if the running was involuntary this time. The only reason he was telling you is because he couldn’t bear the thought of one more thing between you when he was away. He needed to redeem himself, if that was possible.

Slipping the solitaire off your finger, you held it up between two fingers. Poe’s stomach twisted suddenly as he watched you remove it, as if he lost his footing on a loose step going down that midnight staircase. Falling.

“Do you remember what you said when you proposed? The night we went to the dock?”

One of his most cherished memories was the night you agreed to be his wife, lying on your backs stargazing through his dad’s old binoculars. He remembered hoping the subtle movement of the floating dock beneath you was enough of a distraction from his trembling hands as he worked up the courage to pull the ring out of his pocket. That first kiss as an engaged couple would never leave him, pure devotion under a speckled indigo sky. He pressed his lips to your ring finger as he made love to you that night, moved to tears at the thought of belonging to each other forever. You told him that forever wasn’t scary, before your eyes fluttered closed on his slick chest, still heaving from spirited exertion. Forever wasn’t scary, an ending was.

“You asked me if I trusted you. You didn’t say, ‘Will you marry me?’ You didn’t get down on one knee. You slipped this on and asked if I _trusted_ you.”

“I also said I want to be with you, for good. It’s still true. I want to be with you, that’s why I didn’t do anything with Amanda. That’s why I brought up starting a family, I want that. It’s just you, babe.”

“But this is still about trust. It’s **all** about trust.”

“And you can trust me. I said no. She leaned in and I left. I haven’t even seen or spoken to her since. I stopped going for runs because I didn’t want to deal with her.”

“You didn’t want to deal with me either! And if keeping secrets about your slutty ex-girlfriend and telling stupid lies about tripping over turtles is your idea of trust… then, then maybe I should give these rings back.” The words lodged in your throat painfully.

Sealing himself off in a misguided act self-preservation, Poe was unable to comprehend the damage until he realized communication was all but down. Now he struggled to connect, reaching for you through the obstacles he’d placed in your shared path. He loved you, and couldn’t allow his mistake to sabotage the happiness you found in each other.

His hand closed, the warm gold of the engagement ring sandwiched between your fingers and his. “Please trust me. I was scared you might be insecure about it.”

“When have I ever been the jealous type?! I know you get attention and flirt, and don’t really worry. But this is different, you had a real relationship with her and kept going back- it’s not okay to keep this from me! Or see her, at all.”

“I agree! I don’t want to, I haven’t. This was an isolated thing.”

Finally, the tension ripped a sob free. “You have no idea what this feels like. I’m the one putting my career on hold, for your dream. I’m the one who would be pregnant, or get hurt again, not you. I’m the one who is worrying about you every day already and now you’re heading into…”

You couldn’t say it. _Combat_. A combat zone, a conflict zone. Whatever the Hell the military called war these days. Shoulders dropped and your arm went limp, Poe’s hand still enclosed around your own. He inched close to you, slipping the diamond solitaire over his pinky knuckle before wrapping you into a hug. Your head nuzzled into Poe’s shoulder as you bit back yells of anger. Anger, fear, profound sadness. His hand ran over your hair gently, your closed bloodshot eyes. Part of you wanted to break his nose, another wanted to curl up in his arms and weep, another wanted to throw his mother’s ring across the room and storm to the airport by yourself.

“I was scared. Still am,” he whispered into the slope of your neck. “I fucked up… I’m so sorry…” he muttered over and over, pawing around your torso.

For weeks he’d been trying to convince himself that he did the right thing, walked away from temptation. It was true, yet Poe didn’t feel like he did the ethical thing because he almost kissed Mandy that night. Bloody lip and scuffed face, skinned arm and pink sports bra, on the early morning sidewalk as you slept, unaware his side of the bed had grown cold. They shared a moment, however brief. He came too close to that flame, and was lucky to avoid being consumed by it. That fleeting moment haunted him, afraid that he was capable of hurting you to satisfy passing lust. He didn’t want to be that person, simply couldn’t be.

Chaotic curls of ebony brushed against your neck and cheek. Poe was a mess. Clinging to his shirt with tight fists of anger, your foreheads pressed together as your ragged exhalation became his sharp inhalation. Intimate, sharing air itself. The weight of his upper body pressed into you, and you craved it. You wanted the weight of him to pulverize you.

After a few minutes, he spoke your name hoarsely. “I wouldn’t cheat on you. Please. I’m telling you this because it’s been hurting me to keep it. You deserve to know.”

“This is shit timing,” you sniffed. “Literally the worst timing. …I’m so fucking mad at you for this. For all of this.”

Chests still pressed together, you slid down against the headboard to lay down instead of sit up. Pulling Poe down over you, your hand got lost his dense hair. Hooking around the roots, you pulled. Again. This was different than the usual way you’d play with his curls sweetly or even when you’d yank a handful erotically. Again. Different, painful. Poe didn’t flinch, he took it. You didn’t look each other in the face for several minutes, with his ear pressed against your cheek, nose buried in the pillow like he wanted to hide.

“I know. But do you believe me?” he murmured. The weight of his body atop your own still felt familiar, comforting, secure. Filling your crushed lungs with his unique aroma of sandalwood and spice, your hands raked down his back, pulling his shirt.

“Yeah. I believe you.”

A schism had formed between you, and he knew his silence had been the catalyst, even if he was otherwise innocent. The silence had been ripping at the ground between you like a backhoe in a cemetery- just doing its duty until he stopped it from inflicting more damage. He was afraid to see how wide the divide stretched, and at this moment he doubted his ability to jump to the other side. Could he close the gap?

Poe fidgeted with your ring on his finger, rolling it around the knuckle until the stone bumped the other finger, then back again. “And us?”

“I love you, but I need to trust you again.”

“You can. Corazón, I’m yours. I don’t want her, or anyone else.” Unwrapping your left arm, he pushed the ring back onto your finger, clinking it softly against the simple gold band that once belonged to his mother.

“It’s just…” you looked down at it. “I don’t know what we can do to fix this, especially if you’re leaving now.”

Duty called him away, but not before he detonated a bomb over your marriage. You loved him but he was infuriating. Two stubborn lovers, too headstrong to walk away. Hopefully stubborn enough to make this “forever” thing work.

“But I’m coming back. Whatever it is, babe, I’ll make it right. Okay? No more secrets. I’m yours, I’ll always come back.” His deep hazelnut eyes were filled with tears as he looked at you, cupping your face and kissing you softly. Melting under him, urgent hands gripped his shoulders as his tongue slipped between your lips. It was soft like cashmere, asking forgiveness without words. Gritty stubble accumulated from the weekend brushed against the flesh of your face, a reminder of how human he was. A man, nothing more- yet everything. Your everything. Kissing him like this was illogical now, but the thought of his mouth being anywhere else was so upsetting that you had to reclaim it. His body was yours, his heart yours. Fingers running over your cheeks and scalp, Poe kissed you with passion, as if to declare his loyalty through touch. His taste. The smoothness of his upper lip, skimming yours, tongues lapping against each other. Poe’s chest pressed into yours so heavily it strained your breathing. Overwhelming.

Your anger hadn’t evaporated, rather it combined and integrated with other emotions in a complex color wheel. Fear, sadness: primary. Anger, skepticism: secondary. Resentment, frustration: tertiary.

Had this been any other day, you wouldn’t have been kissing him. Poe knew that he’d probably find himself sleeping on Bodhi’s couch, at best, given any other set of circumstances. Guilt washed over him again, knowing that in many ways he had the advantage in this confession because he was leaving in a few hours, distracted by work. You’d be left to clean up the wreckage. Dishonesty didn’t deserve an advantage, or the generous warmth of your mouth, yet you offered it. He tried to tell himself he would’ve told you the truth, eventually, in a less dire situation but there was little evidence of that.

Mandy wasn’t the one he wanted. He hoped you could understand that. She never truly was, Poe only wanted the person she had the potential to be, but never made an effort to become. You were everything he had been chasing, what he believed she could have been, and so much more. Any superficial compatibility he shared with her paled next to the depth of understanding and ease he felt with you. The luminescence of your smile soothed the dark fears of his heart, filling the holes where he’d been blown open.

Laughter, your biting wit that sucked the air from Poe’s lungs. Tenderness, his heart swelling during the long phone calls at 02:00, your sleepy voice trailing off as he sung into the receiver. Insight, the way your love of learning inspired him to explore more about the world and about himself. Eros, the scorching, intuitive physicality you shared. Balance, the complementary nature of his relatively carefree personality to your more analytical style. Trust, the fact that he knew you were faithful, that your heart was his alone, without reservation, despite the abandonment you had experienced at the hand of loved ones before. A trust _he_ had nearly betrayed.

Cradling your neck, Poe kissed you desperately. The velvet softness of your mouth drawing him in again and again. Finally, he pulled back, mouthing your name as he poised just over your face. Your name was the only one that belonged on his lips. Vowing to improve for you, vowing to survive for you.

“Poe… I don’t want you to leave me.”

“I was afraid of _you_ leaving me. I’m not going anywhere. Not in here. Wherever they send me, I’m here with you.” He lifted up on an elbow and leaned back slightly to put his hand over his heart.

Pressing the same hand over your sternum, his heavy eyes locked with yours. “ _This_ isn’t going anywhere. Eres mi todo, remember? You’re my everything.”


	22. Perfect Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe takes a dangerous mission with his squadron, while you try to keep your anxiety under control back in Okinawa.

Thin paper crinkled as you shifted on the narrow exam table. The noise was unavoidable, yet made you self conscious.

So much had changed between you and Poe since Tokyo. The change in emotional landscape was dramatic, especially during his last hours before leaving for his temporary deployment to Yemen.

He didn’t want to leave anything unsaid, it seemed, which was scary in a way you couldn’t have anticipated. Not just the revelation that he’d been keeping secrets, but that he was compelled to unload his guilt even though it meant having a fight. It meant that much to him for you to know the truth.

It wasn’t just guilt he unloaded during that trip, he also communicated a deep want in his heart. Poe wanted a family, with you. After the pain of losing the pregnancy almost two years ago, it was hard to imagine trying another time- even though you knew he would be a great father. You just didn’t know if you could give that to him just yet, either physically or emotionally. A piece was literally missing from your body from the last time, and a chunk of your heart would always be gone as well.

What if you lost the baby again? That kind of heartbreak would be unbearable, especially if Poe was away.

Leaning forward, you plucked a magazine out of a rack for some distraction as you waited for news from the doctor. A sultry model on the cover of dated Cosmopolitan implored you to learn “How to Pull Off Pastels”. You rolled your eyes, but decided to crack it open anyway because the other reading options were even more bleak.

Thoughts faded from the small examination room to the hotel room in Tokyo, the last night you spent with your husband before his temporary deployment. You remembered the last time you made love, the tears and slow, delectable kisses burning in your mind. An alchemist, Poe poured his regret and sorrow and worry into you, a transmutation into something rare and precious. You felt his passion for you in every movement, as hurried as you had to be to make your flight back to Okinawa. 

Gripping his tousled hair in your fist- but not hurting him like before- you guided his head back, to get another look at those eyes. Expansive like a canyon, they contained so much unsaid:

_Forgive me._   
And you did.

_Please don’t stop loving me._   
And you didn’t.

_I love you more than anything._   
And you returned it.

The same intensity as earlier when you had to shield yourself behind your eyelids. More intense now in fact, given what had happened in the hours since. Somewhere between ecstasy and sorrow, it matched what you were feeling. This time, you didn’t look away. Only he mattered in this moment, the gravity of his body grinding into you the only thing of consequence.

“Oh, mi amor...” he breathed into your ear. So close, now. His mouth, all-consuming. Not in lust but devotion. The same kind of kiss you shared between the midnight sea and the glitter sky, a year and a half ago. A lifetime ago. A hot tear ran down his cheek now, you could feel the moisture.

You were both crying.

Poe went deeper, as if he wanted to hide from the world within you. His thumb dug into the dip under your knee, pushing your thigh down harder next to your chest. Your body, your love was his sanctuary.

“Mrs. Dameron?”

The voice pulled you out of your thoughts, back into real time. Nodding at the doctor, you looked up from the magazine, then wrapped the thin gown closer around your shivering body. It always felt so vulnerable to be in this position.

“So, it looks like you’re all set. It might take longer since you only have the one ovary, but the one you have seems to be fine and I didn’t see any tubal blockages.”

Your chest dropped in relief.

“Can I give you information on pre-conception nutrition?”

——

B.B. whined, pressing his fur against your shin as you sat at the kitchen table. The pen stopped working, and you drew a series of curliques in the margin of the paper to get the ink flowing again.

_Since we moved in together, I’ve known you want to be a dad. I’m sorry if I ever seemed unsupportive of that, because I know you’d be the most incredible father. I was scared, but it wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. It was that I didn’t trust myself, my family isn’t like yours. Sometimes I worry about giving a child all they deserve- But I know we’d raise a baby with love._

_Last night I had a dream, that you came home and I was already pregnant. Like, about to pop. I ran to you as you landed and you kissed me- then you realized I had this **gigantic** , hard belly. It was comically large. You also had a shaved head, which was weird. _

_A silly dream, you know? But when I woke up, the idea stuck with me. (Not you coming home to me pregnant because obviously **you’d** be the father and I’m definitely not pregnant now.)_

_I guess what I’m trying to say is that yes. I want that too. Being apart has brought some things into perspective, and I don’t want to wait for the perfect time because it might never come. But it’ll be perfect, anyway._

_The doctor said it’s okay to start trying when you get back, if you still want that. She warned me it might take us longer ‘cause I’m only running on one cylinder but I’m healthy. I had the IUD removed while I was there. Maybe we can just see what happens, no pressure?_

_Please, please, please be careful. I worry about you but I’m trying to control myself and not watch the news, like you said. On most days. Jyn has also been helping me stay on track with that. We go out to eat a couple times a week. Tell Cassian how much she talks about him, she really loves him._

_Come home soon, Poe. I’m ready when you are. Love and miss you so very much.  
_

———

“Cass is actually a great cook, I miss his chilaques. And his laugh. He gets so stressed during these missions, sometimes I don’t hear him laugh for multiple phones calls.” Jyn took another sip, and swirled mint leaves at the bottom of her glass with the stirring stick, “…and Poe? What do you miss?”

Where to begin? You missed the way he’d bite his lip. The confused expression he’d get when forgetting why he’d walked into a room. You’d missed so much in these past few months.

The new routine was to come commiserate over Happy Hour mojitos with Jyn, both missing your pilots. The noise level rose sharply, as a group of rowdy airmen cheered for a team playing on the tv over the bar.

“He sings a lot, actually. He sings while he drives, to whatever is on. It’s pretty cute.” Your nail scratched the pressed board coaster under your drink, and Jyn hummed In understanding. She’d been in this position before. “Does it get easier? I know Cass has been doing this for a while.”

She paused, lost in thought for a moment. “I dunno… One time, he was running a drill near North Korea. They did some test launch when he was right there, like really close. I didn’t find out ‘til later, but the idea is terrifying.”

Gulping your drink, you shifted your feet on the rung of the bar stool, lime juice buzzing on your tongue. A lot could go wrong.

Poe told you that when he was growing up and his dad was away on missions, Shara had a “no news” rule. Watching the evening news would send her anxiety level up, so it would be banned until his dad arrived home. You had adopted a similar policy, knowing that it was probably the best for your mental health while he was on temporary assignment. Sometimes, the less you knew, the better.

“Our guys are smart, though. They were chosen for this for a reason.”

——-

The base at Al Anad wasn’t so bad. Poe was grateful to have his squadron there, but he missed you. The missions had mostly been escort convoys thus far, protecting supply shipments for Marines on the ground. There was chatter about anti-aircraft weaponry, but no one had seen anything significant firsthand, just a couple of drones downed.

Today was a little different, providing air support for a rescue mission in hostile territory. A disabled ship, meant for the Port of Midi, was drifting into that space where a slight difference in longitude meant danger. The port was a hot zone, recently seized again, but this was about protection while the crew got the job done, not aerial aggression or dropping bombs.

Poe grabbed his life support gear and nodded at Bodhi. His pre-flight routine was in effect, going down the checklist while earbuds filtered in Social Distortion to get him in the right headspace.

“Why don’t they send the squids out for this?”

“Man, I don’t know… the Navy has their own pilots,” Bodhi answered, adjusting night vision goggles.

“CENTCOM doesn’t tell us shit,” Poe’s mouth turned down in exasperation.

He didn’t mind taking the mission, but it didn’t make much sense to him. Why wasn’t there an intervention before that ship drifted out so far? Why wait until it was late at night and close to the border, why not reroute to Saudi territory as soon as they heard Midi was under Houthi control again?

Cassian, Poe, Bodhi. Snug formation, on alert. The order was to chase off any potential threats, with at least one pilot standing the ground ‘til the rescue op could be completed. Radar blipped. One bogey.

Cassian’s voice crackled: _Look at this prick, on the way already. That was fast._

Poe: _I’ve got eyes, 4 o’clock. Give chase?_

Blipped again, two closing in. They multiplied.

Cassian: _Yeah, they know why we’re here. Just loop around and they’ll get the_ _picture_.

Off. Mach One. The two jets pulled vertical, and he took after them like a hungry fox after rabbits. They seemed to be multiplying like rabbits, at least. Cloud cover, dense.

The formation they had been in was deceiving, concealing their exact numbers. When they split off, the radar lit up in a spray of colored light. Aging F-5’s. American made. What they lacked in speed compared to the squadron’s F-16’s, they made up for in numbers.

Traffic control _: Five contacts. 20 miles, closing_.

Mach Two. Poe never heard the barrier, the cockpit filled with too much noise to make it out even when flying in a close formation. As a kid, he always imagined hearing it but in reality he was insulated by the helmet, whirring of white noise and the hisses and pops of the radio in his ear.

Bodhi: _We need backup, anyone coming?!_

His orders were to stay with the ship, it was too important to abandon. Bodhi was getting anxious as he circled overhead.

An F-5 nearly rolled over Cassian as he broke left to avoid it, gripping the control with white knuckles as it blew past.

Cassian: _They’re getting too fiesty; I’m calling it. Light it up._

Poe’s eyes darted between the canopy window and the radar screen, the two he’d followed up seemed to disappear. Murky clouds stretched far out, but that was all.

Poe: _Ahhh, guys?_

Sweat trickled down his scalp, he could feel a drop rolling close to his ear. But he couldn’t hear anything except the rattle of his own heart, metallic like a penny in an empty soda can. He checked the radar again, it blipped another, seeming to drop out of thin air. Three against one, now.

Bodhi: _Shit- Another one?_ _I’m coming._

Cassian _: Stand down, I’ve got this. Hang tight, Poe._

Blinking with alerts, the control panel lit up like a discotheque. A missle screamed past, heading out toward the Red Sea. Too close. Poe dropped flares, a sequence of four, and muttered obscenities to himself. Here they came, two up fast, closing in and pushing for every knot the F-5 could offer. His jaw clenched, then Cassian’s jet came into view.

Poe: _Thanks for accepting my invitation. Anyone else on the way?_

Bodhi: _They’re still a few minutes out, look_ _sharp_.

Twisting through the air, they arrived. Stolen planes, taken from a Yemeni hangar a while back by insurgents. MiG-29s now, not only the older F-5s. Shit. A rapid burst of missles pierced the air around Poe’s plane as he spun. Climbing, climbing. He dropped more fire, ears ringing with the sound. Cassian came up on the right, protective of the new pilot.

Shreiking. A cacophony of alerts rang from the controls of Poe’s F-16. Navigating in sync, they banked and rose to a higher elevation.

Above the clouds now. The moon was visible, but now the sea was obscured. Even with night vision, it was hard to make out the other planes ’til they were right on top of him, and Poe’s eyes flicked between the panel and the open sky beyond the bubble canopy.

Where? Had they successfully outrun it, leaving it to crash into the Red Sea?

Cassian: _Move_ _your—_

More power.

Before his Commander could finish the sentence, the force threw Poe back in the seat a little, as he attempted to steady his racing thoughts, maneuvering out of the path.

Cassian: _Yeah that was almost your ass._

Poe: _Almost!_

Breathing a sigh of relief, Poe flipped a couple of toggles and adjusted himself in the cockpit seat.

Another.

God, they shouldn’t even be on this mission, he thought. And where did these guys learn to fly?

Bodhi: _Reinforcements two minutes out_.

An MiG-29 was charging right for him, an intimation technique. Again, he gunned and lifted to higher elevation, but it was already close. The moon was a yo-yo as Poe twirled, the golden orb oscillating up and down.

Blood rushed to his face, hot. Throat dry.

He dropped. No. No. No.

Poe: _Compressor_ … _fucking_ _compressor_.

Cassian: _You’re okay just—-_

Poe’s head snapped against the canopy sharply, as the F-16 jerked in the wake of the enemy fighter. Jet wash. The impact of a pilot against the interior of their own cockpit had been known to break necks.

Spinning.

Now no moon. Only a view of water, straight ahead, waves swirling like a top.

Spinning.

A sound, coming from inside his helmet yet far away.

Spinning.

Walnut eyes, set wide in panic.

Spinning.

A chaotic pulse.

Spinning.

——-

The bookcase grew heavy under the weight of time. Vases lined up, progressively growing less crude in form. The sophisticated curve on one the color of bone gave you a feeling of accomplishment, especially as it contrasted with the chunky lip of the bowl you had done months earlier. They marked the passage of time, when you would visit Baze and Chirruit to hone your ceramics skills. Studio days were your favorite days, just behind mail days. Those were the very best.

Poe’s collection of worn paperbacks by Tom Clancy, Jim Carroll’s Basketball Diaries and an autobiography by one of the the Tuskegee airmen butted up against your short stories by Miranda July, poetry by Neruda. Next to them, a small malachite-print box where his letters were stored.

During his time in Undergraduate Pilot Training, he didn’t write physical letters, opting instead for the instant gratification of Skype or FaceTime. Now that he was in Yemen, it was different. Paper mail was more predictable than a steady internet connection, but he was able to call some weeks, quick conversations where you both enjoyed the relief of each other’s voice, keeping things light and encouraging. The distance between you was really noticeable on the phone, sometimes the call would be dropped suddenly and it was usually hard to make out exactly what he said until you reminded him not to mumble. Hearing Poe sound so far away made you ache, and you hadn’t heard him sing in months now. Months.

Whistling from the kitchen, the kettle was ready. You poured the steaming water into your mug and brought it into the bedroom, along with the letter clutched in your hand. B.B. tilted his head up at you, expecting a treat. The ritual you’d created was one of comfort. A new letter from Poe could easily be torn open at the mailbox, but he asked you not to do that in case there was bad news.

Instead, you’d curl up in bed, surrounding yourself with pillows while wearing one of his old T-shirts. Today it was a navy blue one, with the Gibson guitar logo. B.B. jumped into your lap and you took a deep breath, studying Poe’s handwriting in what appeared to be ink from at least two different pens.

_Mi Corazón,_

_I’ve never written a proper love letter before, but you’ll probably get this ~~before~~ close to Valentine’s Day (sorry if it’s late), so just pretend I’m writing this from a muddy trench during World War 2. Everything will sound more poetic that way. It’ll also be helpful to imagine me in sepia tone. _

_I love you. I love you. I love you. (I could fill up the page, want me to keep going? I told you- I’ve never written one before. What do you **mean** that’s not how it’s done? I’m trying, okay?!)_

_Really missing you. So much. Just waking up next to you, hugging you when I get home. Nothing in the world like that feeling. The other night I also had a vivid dream. Swore you were talking to me, like you were right there next to me in bed. I actually reached out for you when I woke up, in that split second before I realized where I was. Guess that shows how much I miss you. When I get back, I’m gonna be stuck to you like a barnacle. So you have that to look forward to._

_I don’t want you feel pressured to try and get pregnant if you’re not ready. Don’t do this for me, I only want it if and when you do. Glad to hear the doctor says you’re okay, though. After last time, I’m a little scared but if we do this I’ll be with you._

_Please please keep yourself busy, I don’t want you to get too lonely. Don’t say that about your projects, it’s not boring to hear about anything that makes you happy. I knew you’d get better on the wheel if you just stuck with it- and no, that’s not the instructors that’s **you** , stubborn. I’m sure they’re awesome. _

_The schedule here… there’s not really one. Night missions, long days, and so many briefings. So much boldface to go back over again and again. And the internet service is really spotty, even on the best days. But I’m gonna call this week, promise. Maybe from a weird number._

_Are you still imagining me in WW2? Good. ‘Cause I’m picturing you as a pin up girl, with those stockings that have the line up the back. Didn’t want you to feel left out._

_You might not like this, but we’re all growing out mustaches for March. Yes, I’m sending you a picture. It might not be a handlebar, but I’ll finally get to be the hipster you accused me of being on our first date. Haha. Remember how you got soaked in the rain and wore my shirt? Little did I know how much you were going to do that eventually. You’re the worst shirt and jacket thief. I bet you’re literally wearing my black hoodie right now._

_Sending my love from 40,000 ft._

_Poe_


	23. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe and Cassian haven’t been heard from since a jet crash that shocked the world. Fearing the worst, you and Jyn support each other during a heated confrontation.

Jyn gave the ketchup bottle a couple smacks with her palm. Leaning forward, you plucked a French fry off her plate. The Tv over the bar was distracting and loud, set to a 24-hour news channel instead of the usual sports game. In an attempt to save your sanity, you tried to tune it out and enjoy your meal.

“Back off!”

“Maybe the server forgot about my dinner…”

“Okay, grab a few. Just so you don’t starve.”

One of the bright spots in the last few months was the friendship that had formed between you and Jyn. Poe and Cassian bonded immediately but it took the two of you a little longer to find your footing, with her guarded personality. Now that it was there, you were incredibly thankful for her warmth.

_American forces have been leading air attacks against insurgents that claimed much of the area around prominent sea ports since late November, collaborating with allied forces from Saudi Arabia and the UAE._

_Critics of the administration…_

Taking another sip of your Corona, you squeezed the lime wedge between your fingers as you waited for your meal.

“Limes. You’re like, always asking for limes.” Jyn crinkled her nose. “I’m more of a lemon girl myself.”

_As controversy heats up over the renewed military surge across the Arabian Peninsula, the Pentagon has confirmed the first Air to-Air kill since 2015, just two days after reports of a downed American F-16 fighter jet in Yemen.  
_

You both froze. Jyn’s amber eyes flicked up to yours across the table.

F-16. The 44th Squadron was in Yemen. You stared forward blankly, somewhere in the general direction of the plate of fries, but everything in the restaurant has grown distant.

“Aaaand, grilled chicken fajitas. Careful, that plate is really-“

Jyn held up a hand to silence the cheerful server. His eyes darted between you, two women, who went from laughing to stoic in a blink of red blocked text at the bottom of a CNN segment. This restaurant was on-base, and he’d been at Kadena long enough to recognize an expression like that, one that searched for hope amidst the darkest fear. Awkwardly, he backed up after depositing the sizzling meal on the table, and excused himself.

This couldn’t be true.

Searching her eyes, you felt your hand ache. Your fingers were still curled around the wedge of lime, but you gripped it so hard, it was crushed and split in half from the force of your nails. You did that? Right through the rind? Movements felt rehearsed, mechanical. You released your grip, watching the wedge fall to the table.

Jyn cleared her throat, tucking her dark hair behind her ear. She didn’t want to ask, but she had to know. This was your first time through a scare, and you didn’t have anyone else on base.

“W-when was the last time you… talked to Poe?”

His name hurt like a spray of shrapnel. An image tore through your imagination. Poe, gasping behind the anonymous black visor of his helmet. Control panel screaming, blinking. Fire.

When his mother’s ring moved from his necklace to your left hand, you replaced it with a small wedding gift. A gold medal, stamped with St. Joseph of Cupertino: patron saint of aviation. He was tipped up gracefully in levitation, a weightless protector. You pictured the glint of that charm against his collarbone, just under the olive flight suit.

You struggled to think, to remember, what day it was. Poe’s latest letter, where he joked that you should imagine him as a World War Two Flying Ace, was postmarked for a Tuesday. Over a week earlier. Your husband promised to call within that week, but it never came.

“Uhh… he wrote me, and it was stamped last Tuesday I think,” you muttered over your rows of grilled chicken and peppers. “And, and Cass?”

“We talked, maybe Monday? The call was like 8 minutes long, if that. They’ve been so busy.”

Jyn watched your hand begin to tremble, then continued trying to convince you, “I’m sure they’re fine. They are really busy. And with this whole mess, there are a lot of pilots over there,” Her eyes were more wet now, and she turned away. She flipped her phone over, going through her past calls and double-checking her email. The background wallpaper was a selfie of Cassian holding a fist up in a mock threat to her.

Gulping your Corona down, you fought the tears that accumulated within- enough to fill a lake, deep and green. If your tears did fill a lake, you could weigh yourself down with his old boots and drown if Poe didn’t return.

“Yeah,” your voice was high-pitched, “and they’re all over the place. Probably not even in Yemen right now. You know how those things change.”

Your friend reached her hand across the table, resting it over yours. It was something Poe would have done, a small comforting action. But this hand was delicate, feminine. It was lighter in color than his, lacking the calloused fingertips earned from years of guitar playing, and the grip strength conditioned from squeezing the clutch of Kes’s old Ducati.

Timidly approaching, the server noticed your plate had remained untouched. Thick plumes of steam emanated from it earlier, but now it had grown cold. You had no idea how long you sat in silence, fear permeating your thoughts. “Miss, can I get you a box?”

* * *

_Poe scooped his hand around your waist from behind and you rested your head against his chest a moment. He was home early. Setting his helmet down on the kitchen counter next to the cutting board, he unzipped his leather jacket to reveal mottled ABUs underneath._

_Black, wide double racing stripes, yellow visor. You’d warned him about dumping his helmet there, and he should know better especially when you’re cooking, but he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you. He knelt down to pat B.B., who licked his face eagerly in greeting._

_“Do you mind? Put that thing in the garage.”_

_“Glad to see you too, Corazón,” he quipped._

_“Sassing me while I’m holding this? You’re braver than I thought.”_

_Your knife sliced into a bundle cilantro as you grinned at Poe. The air was filled with its fresh, herbal scent. After obliging, he grabbed three limes from the bowl, juggling them slowly. “That’s my fall-back if this pilot thing doesn’t work out. Clowning. Check out these skills.”_

_The small green fruits were tossed into the air over his hands, as you laughed. “You don’t need a fall-back, I know you’ll do great. …but I’m just gonna miss you. Oklahoma’s too far.”_

_“Don’t get sad on me! It’s not like I’m leaving forever. And I’m gonna visit all the time.”_

_Knife still in hand, you kissed him. Delectable, he could still fill your chest with fireflies in an instant. A faint moan stayed in his closed mouth, vibrating as he savored you. Your boyfriend butted his forehead against yours, trapping a band of wavy hair in the space between. He was going to miss you desperately. In the time you’d lived together, Poe realized what he’d been missing: connection. True intimacy, not just the feeling of getting used to someone but of understanding them and being understood._

_“I know, I’m not trying to be sad. This is your dream… I’m happy, actually. And everyone’s gonna have a lot of fun tonight.”_

_“Everyone?”_

_“You think you’re headed to flight training without a proper send-off?! Finn and I are throwing you a little thing. Grilling and Coronas in the backyard. Nothing fancy.”_

_Another kiss, this time Poe lifted you off your feet as you giggled. The love you felt for him was stronger than the distance between Florida and Oklahoma. Stronger than any distance, because you trusted he would always return. He always kept his promises.  
_

* * *

B.B. nudged against you, his nose leaving a wet, heart-shaped imprint on your shirt. Poe’s shirt, actually, a navy-blue Gibson guitar one he’d had since you met. You pulled the little white and red terrier closer, rubbing behind his ears.

Your phone rang, and you lurched across the bed to grab it. Reading the caller ID, your heart sank: Lando Calrissian, your godfather.

“Hey, darlin’. You doing okay?”

“Umm, I’m good. Keeping busy.” the words came out thick, unconvincing. “What’s up with you?”

“Well, not much for an old trucker like me. Same roads, new loads. Not much changes. I just wanted to give you a call and check in. It’s been a while.” His tone changed slightly, “I was… watching the news. Poe, didn’t you say he was in Yemen?”

The only clip of the news you had watched was there in the restaurant with Jyn the night before. By the time you got home, you were in a haze of whisky and fell asleep listening to old records. When you opened your phone in the morning, tabs were open to articles about the crash, but you had no memory of reading them. Out of protective reflex, you exited out quickly.

“Yes, Yemen. Al Anad.”

“Did you… hear about the fighter?”

“It’s not him,” you replied through a clenched jaw.

“Oh, good. It’s a real shitshow over there. Whole cities have been captured, a civil war, now the raid has-“

Enough. Your lip trembled. “Thanks for calling me, it was so good to hear you. I’m actually walking out the door right now to meet a student, though.”

“Okay, please don’t hesitate to call me. It always brightens my day to hear your—“

“Thanks, Lando. Love you.”

Burying your face in Poe’s pillow, you screamed as B.B. jumped off the bed in fright.

_FUCCKKK **.**_

Lungs burning, you punched and clawed into it, again and again. Throwing it to the floor, you grabbed the pillow from your side and clawed into that one as well. Tears streamed from your pink, swollen eyes.

**_FUUUUUCCCCKKKK!_ **

This time, you didn’t use a pillow to muffle the sounds. It didn’t matter. Letting out an animalistic roar, you screamed nonsense. The noise tore through your hollow chest as your emotions oscillated between fear, anger, grief, denial. Nothing made sense, so why not?

The last communication from your husband was at least 9 days prior, according to the postmark. So he wrote the letter at least 10 days ago. It made you so happy to read it, his little jokes and mild innuendo in sloppy handwriting reminding you that he was still himself over there. No news from him, or any officials from the Air Force. Yemen was imploding in a fiery spectacle as the world watched, but there was only terrifying radio silence from the person you loved, thrust into the middle of it.

Poe was new to this. He’d never dropped bombs before, he was a developmental engineer who worked alongside a mostly civilian team back in Tampa. Earning his wings since didn’t change his personality but the expectations of this job were radically different.  He loved the act of flight- but this was war, with muddy politics. At least 5 entities were fighting that you were vaguely aware of, and you worried about the number of sights on his back.

You knew why he did this, why he chose to join the Air Force. It mattered so much to him to honor the legacy of his parents and his grandfather who was a political prisoner executed in Cuba long before he was born, but you were still angry. He could’ve said no when he received the orders for the pilot training program, stayed behind a computer where he would be safe. He could’ve washed out under the stress of the training, but instead performed so well he was hand-selected for this prestigious team immediately.

The same drive that you recognized in Poe was in yourself; you couldn’t ask him to stay grounded. Clipping the wings of a creature meant for flight was always cruel.

* * *

Another video. Poe chewed the inside of his cheek before leaning toward the microphone. Sitting on a stool in the cafe, he strummed his black acoustic guitar tentatively.

“Okay, hey. Hi- I’m Poe and this song is for my girlfriend… who made me come here and do this. So if I’m awful, blame her.” He threw a wink at you, and you responded with a flirtatious eye roll as he began the song. Fingers moving along the frets, Poe took on a lopsided smile tinted with a bit of melancholy.

Quickly acclimating to the attention, he exuded charm as he played a Cat Power cover in front of a small audience at the open mic night. His voice-box sounded like a rock tumbler as he gazed at you. 

_The moon is not only ice cold  
It is here to stay_

_When I lay me down  
Will you still be around?_

_When they put me six feet underground  
Will the big, bad, beautiful moon still be around?_

Poe finished to some applause, nodded in thanks then returned to the table with you, Rey and Finn. After Finn patted him on the back, Poe squeezed you tightly and whispered into your ear. It was inaudible in the video, and you couldn’t remember what it was.

“You guys are too cute…” Rose gushed, off-camera as the video ended.

Pressing play again, you wished there were more videos of Poe singing. Back home and while he was in flight training, seeing him play was a regular occurrence, but when you went back through your email you realized most of those had been via Skype, not recorded. The last proper one was an apology for the fight you had, the one that cut you both deeply just after you became engaged. His voice was emotional and beautiful, but you couldn’t watch that one today. Compartmentalizing was one of the only ways you could survive the night.

Wiping a tear from your face, you were pulled from your memory by B.B. yipping at a knock at door. After hours had gone by with no answer to her calls or texts, Jyn suspected you had received the worst news about Poe and came to check. The phone was in your hands, still. She searched your eyes and was relieved you were still worried because that meant there was hope. Hope was everything for you both now. No news about Cassian either.

“It kills me, though… What’s his pet name for you?”

“Palomita. Little dove,” Jyn answered, holding up the bottle of Patrón to the light of the lamp. Despite the fact that neither you nor Jyn were fans of tequila, you were each a couple shots deep and sloppy at this point.

Trying not to get morbid or overly distraught, you went through your phones together and told the stories behind pictures buried in the camera roll. Finn carrying Poe in his arms, like a bride across the threshold, stumped you. As funny as it was, you simply had no recollection of how or why it happened. The silly affection Poe had for best friend was one of the first qualities you were attracted to after meeting him, and the photo made you wish for simpler days back stateside.

B.B. paced by the door, and you realized that he hadn’t been out in hours. Slipping on the terrier’s little white and orange harness, you decided to take him for a walk. A change of scenery and some air was necessary after brooding inside all day.

The night felt oppressive, too dark. Moonless. Stars seemed especially bright, it would be easy to make out constellations and even the planets Poe taught you about, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. Another night passed since any contact meant less hope. Two thoughts, dark as the night, kept replaying in your mind: the news segment and Poe singing the Cat Power song.

**Confirmed Air-to-Air kill**

_When they put me six feet underground_

**Downed F-16 over Yemen**

_Will the big, bad, beautiful moon still be around?_

Jyn walked beside you as B.B. trotted along the sidewalk. You rubbed her back a little and she gave you a half-hearted smile. She was a lot more anxious than she let on, but you knew. There was an unspoken understanding that it had been too long, and something must have been wrong. An understanding that no matter what, you were going to support each other through it.

“…you kidding me?” you muttered in disgust. There she was, in her perky blonde ponytail and Victoria Secret workout clothes. Mandy. Her eyes met you as she made her way down the steps of her apartment onto the sidewalk. This was the first time you’d seen her up close since Poe told you about the hellos, the fall, the almost-kiss.

“Hey! Long time no see,” she smiled. Suddenly, blood felt like lava in your veins, and the hand wrapped around B.B.’s tangerine colored leash began to shake. You were drunk. You were terrified of losing the love of your life. You weren’t in any mood to deal with that.

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Hmmm. Maybe.” Mandy’s expression went cold, looking you and Jyn over with an amused smirk. “It took you this long to figure out who I am.”

“You deceived me. Stay away from us.”

“You invited me over, remember? I was just being a friendly neighbor.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t appreciate you using me to try and fuck my husband.”

Voice shaking, you locked eyes with her. Jyn was a couple steps away with B.B., trying to let you resolve this. She knew the backstory after the Tokyo trip, and also had a burning resentment toward Mandy simply on principle, but was resisting the urge to intervene.

“It must be really rough, being the wife of a pilot. Being away so often. Those night missions and long, unpredictable hours…”

Stepping closer, you bore into Mandy’s unapologetic, emerald eyes.

“Shut your mouth, fucking whore.” Patrón coaxed the words out, as if they were shaped in the air and not on your tongue. Closing the gap, Mandy stepped forward. Her eyes narrowed.

“So, how is Poe lately? I was thinking about him—“

Your mouth opened in response, but nothing came out.

“—this thing he used to do… kinda like how he rolls his R’s? Does he still do that with his tongue?”

Thud.  
Amethyst night.  
Screaming.  
Ripping hair.  
Rage.  
Burning knuckles.

 _“Enough!_ That’s enough!” Jyn cried, pulling your shoulders. You swung at her too, before processing who it was and what was happening.

Mandy backed away on her elbows, blood pouring out of her nose and tears pouring out of her eyes.

Blinking, it took you a moment to realize what happened. You glared at Mandy, most of your indignation spent in your drunken, impulsive fury. Her smashed face was a much better sight than the mental picture of Mandy and Poe together that had been plaguing you since he admitted his encounter with her, the night he split his lip open on a run.

“You’re crazy.”

“Yeah, guess I am. Poe is…”

Poe. He could be in a body bag right now. As your fury shifted back into despair, you collapsed into a sob. Mandy shot Jyn a confused look. Jyn knelt down, her voice hushed.

“Look- obviously, you guys aren’t friends or anything. But she’s… well, we don’t know if Poe is okay. He was in Yemen.”

Her brow furrowed, as she tilted her head back to stem the flow of blood through her crushed nose. She remained silent in understanding. Speculation had been all over the base, talks of raids and bombings, downed planes and dozens of service members killed in the heated effort already.

——

Wiping the sleeve of Poe’s black hoodie across your tearful cheek, you double checked the volume of your phone before plopping down on the chair.

”I don’t know. It was harder in the beginning, it’s not usually like this. But I’m scared now.” She curled onto the couch, pulling a blanket around herself. It had been an emotional ride the past few days, and she was profoundly exhausted.

”Stay over?” You asked, and Jyn nodded. She understood how simple things like seeing his toothbrush by the sink could send you into sudden turmoil during a deployment. Facing the home she shared with Cassian wouldn’t be easy, either.

”You… were a badass tonight. Not that I didn’t think you were before. But you’re a scientist- I didn’t expect you to go so brutal on her like that.”

”I surprised myself. That’s never happened before.” Shaking your head, you poked at your scalp. Mandy had ripped a chunk of hair out as she attempted to climb out from under your fists. Thanks to the combination of alcohol and seething anger, you didn’t feel it until later. Some nail marks striped your forearm and jaw, but nothing major. She had a broken nose, and the black eyes that accompany one.

”She deserved it”, Jyn chuckled, petting B.B. as he cuddled up to her. “I was gonna step in and protect you… but apparently, that wasn’t necessary.”

Sleep inched in, wrapping around you as you tucked yourself into the upholstered chair in the corner of the living room. The plants you bought after first moving in had flourished, Pothos vines with variegated leaves stretched across the shelves and the spines of records. The Clash. Nina Simone. Cafe Tacuba. Green leaves, alive. Your eyes dropped in sleep, thinking of a jungle.

Jolting you from sleep, your ringtone pierced the silence. 3:28 glowed from the clock, the living room thick with reminders of your husband, like shadows that seem to shift from the corner of your eye. Each beat of your heart raised to a deafening volume as you reached toward the table to grab it- then stopped when you read the display.

 **Bodhi Rook:** Incoming Call


	24. Black Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe attempts to recover from the jet spin; you try to learn what happened that night over Yemen.

Black. It wasn’t the field of night-vision green he saw anymore, but pure and immense darkness. His neck felt shattered, and he winced as he tried to keep his aching head stable. Poe had no memory of his head being snapped against the gold-tinted canopy moments earlier.

Nearly parallel to the horizon, the F-16 had entered a flat spin when his compressor stalled, being thrown into the jet wash of the enemy fighter. A far-away noise from outside his helmet came into his awareness as he began to blink away the void and regain his bearings.

To his horror, he was in the cockpit, and he was spinning.

The mountains that hugged the coastline of Yemen were rolling over him again and again, tinted green in the night-vision’s eerie glow. The sight was punctuated by the flicker and sputter of missiles and flares in his line of sight.

_Excessive Spin Rate_

Adrenaline seized control of Poe’s bloodstream, like the rebels had seized the Port of Midi. Your image flashed in his mind, for the briefest moment. Mouth open, your hands reaching out in desperation to catch him as he dropped.

Your torso, your chest,  
then your shoulders visible,  
then only from the neck up,  
your sorrow-filled eyes as you realized he wasn’t able to be saved,  
then the top of your head. Then the darkness again. Dropping, powerless.

_Excessive Spin Rate  
_

No, he couldn’t leave you. He checked the control panel through blurred eyes, straining to understand through his double-vision. Flaps up, gears up. Drawing in a steadying breath, Poe focused. There was only so long before the F-16 plummeted into the Red Sea.

_Excessive Spin Rate_

The initial ring in his ears had begun to subside, and he began to be assaulted by the sound of the alarm systems. It finally registered that Bitchin’ Betty, the female-voiced warning, had been barking at him to correct the jet.

“Well, obviously”, he muttered to the automated recording. 

Poe’s mind was foggy, the twisted landscape around him and phantom ghosts in his eyes making him react slower than usual. With a sharp breath, he chopped the throttle, then waited in tension to time it with the roll. The jet continued its nauseating corkscrew trajectory as he waited.

3…

2…

“You’re gonna buy the farm, Dameron! Roll right!”

This was his single shot to recover from the spin before his altitude was so low, he’d be forced to choose between ejection over the fiery enemy-held territory, or a watery death- but he moved slowly as if he was a toy, running out of batteries. Distorted voice and delayed action. Cassian shouted into the radio, afraid he wasn’t conscious.

Rocking the plane, Poe applying force back and forth on the stick. Eyes fused shut, he couldn’t look yet. He thought of his wife. He thought of what might’ve been as his chest shook, confined tightly to the seat by the nylon harness. He thought of you.

* * *

The phone slipped from your hand as the room began to spin. “The call dropped. I couldn’t hear anything.”

She swallowed, trying to make sense of things even though the had just been woken by your cry and was nursing her own tequila hangover. Jyn wanted to ask delicately, in case your worst fear had just been confirmed. “Is he…?”

“I don’t know. I answered and the line was dead.”

“But Poe called you!”

“No. It was Bodhi’s number,” you mumbled, shoulders sinking as B.B. licked your hand. You didn’t move, didn’t look Jyn in the eye. It was as if your heart was flash-frozen the moment the call ended prematurely.

“There’s hope. You know, relationships are built on hope.”

Gnawing a fingernail, you looked around the dark apartment. Poe was in the oversized hoodie you wore, in the collection of hot sauces on the dining table. You didn’t have to turn on the light to know he was everywhere within those walls.

“All a relationship ever is, is hope for the future,” Jyn continued in a comforting voice. She was also afraid of the news on the other side of the phone, the other side of the world.

Earlier this week, it seemed like the future held good things. Poe whisking you off somewhere once his temporary duty was over, exploring a new city while his hands were glued to your curves. Bathing a newborn in a kitchen sink filled with bubbles. Moving back to the states eventually, where you could get a job in pharmaceutical development and he could continue to fly somewhere safer.

What did the future offer now? An American flag folded into three neat corners. The wedding band and St. Joseph charm plucked from Poe’s cold body, if it was recovered at all. The insurmountable sorrow of never being able to look into your lover’s eyes again.

“I know what you’re doing. You’re grieving- but you haven’t heard anything like that. Not yet. So stop.”

“He’s the least experienced out there. I’m just… I feel like something is wrong. My anxiety is in overdrive and all I can do is imagine—“

“ _Stop_.”

Jyn strode over quickly, embracing you in a hug. You sat in silence, accepting the comfort. You sat in trepidation, waiting for another call. The phone sat on the floor, like a coiled rattlesnake about to strike.

Buzzing on the rug, it lit up and the ringtone chimed. Jyn pulled back, and nodded at you. Steadying yourself, you gingerly lifted it.

**Bodhi** **Rook** : Incoming Call

“H-he-hello?”

“Can you—“

_“Poe?!”_

“—you hear me? Hello?”

An involuntary noise escaped your lips, one of relief and pain and gratitude to the many deities you appealed to in desperation. Jyn’s face dropped, then your mouth lifted in a smile. “He’s… it’s him!”

Her arms wrapped around you in celebration.

“Amor…?”

“I’m here, Poe. I love you. Oh, I love you,” you choked through a heavy throat. The consolation you felt threatened to overflow from your body, tears profusely streaming from your eyes as you strained to hear your husband’s far-away voice.

“I love you, too, but is everything okay?”

“Is Cass alright?”

“Ummm, yeah.”

“Please have him call Jyn. Is he there with you? Please.” Offering you a grateful smile, she held back her own tears of relief.

“Hold on…” Muffled noises came from the receiver for a moment. “He’s finishing up something but I’ll let him know. What’s wrong?”

“Are you okay? Safe now? Everyone says Yemen is…”

Nobody was expecting aerial dogfights when the conflict began. Then the insurgents captured military equipment from the government, arming themselves with Yemeni planes and anti-aircraft weapons. Speculation was the talented pilots were mercenaries from corrupt governments aligned with the rebels, but no one knew for sure. The downed American planes shocked the world, and rattled the confidence of the entire 44th Squadron.

Poe sighed, picturing your anxiety-chewed fingernails and the crumpled frown of worry he knew so well. “I warned you about the news.”

“What am I supposed to do, wear blinders and ear plugs? It’s everywhere. We were in a restaurant and it came on TV- the pilots killed.”

“Yeah, I understand. It was no one we know, but still. Awful.”

Poe had nightmares of falling, struggling against gravity to see your face again. Reaching out, brushing his fingertips along your hair as he plummeted, unable to see your obscured features. Too far away to touch. It was the same image he had when he was ripped back into consciousness after his head slammed against the unforgiving polycarbonate canopy of the jet. Waking just before the moment of impact, he’d jerk out of bed and pale upon seeing he was still at Al Anad.

“I miss you so much, but we aren’t finished here. It’s a mess, dealing with Houthi rebels and Al-Qaeda. They really don’t tell us much.”

Poe especially couldn’t tell you about the flat spin, the concussion or the neck brace he was wearing from the whiplash. Or the fact that he’d been grounded for the last few days as he recovered from the swelling on his brain. That was to be kept in the black box of his mind, impenetrable and tucked away. You couldn’t hear that, not now possibly not ever, despite his recent change of stance on keeping secrets for your protection.

Days ago, he’d been caught in the jet wash of the MiG-29 speeding past him during a compressor stall, and the force flung his jet into a spin as he was thrown against the canopy. Powerless, he dropped toward the Red Sea before the compressor recovered. Poe survived only because he was right around maximum ceiling when it stalled, giving him enough space between his plane and the steely water for a fighting chance. Luck had been on his side that day.

After landing, Bodhi and Cassian told him they’d never seen anyone recover from a flat spin like that, but Poe had no clear memory of it, only a complicated knot of emotions.

“Promise me you’re coming back safe.”

“I’m a glorified carrier pigeon. Of course I’m coming back,” he smiled into the receiver of Bodhi’s phone.

* * *

**One Week Earlier**

Cassian rarely used his last name unless they were in the presence of another officer or he was about to tear into him. He wasn’t about to mince words after nearly seeing his friend drop into the sea. “Don’t pull that shit again, Dameron.”

Turning toward the voice, Poe hissed in pain. It shot down from the base of his skull when he moved his neck, along his upper spine. It felt like he was a marionette being wrenched upward by a string with each shift in position. Everything was too loud, too bright, too much. He wanted to sink away from it all, back into sleep and darkness.

“Hold still,” a medic who introduced himself as Antilles wiped vomit off Poe’s chin and neck and pressed him back down on the stretcher. “You need to keep still for me now, okay?”

”I’m fine,” Poe muttered, “I just need a nap.”

Wedge Antilles responded with an apologetic frown, “No can do, Captain. Looks like you’ve got a concussion.”

Bodhi and Cassian strode up, a mix of emotions on their exhausted faces after the dogfight. One of the MiG-29s after them had been hit, just before the pilot could eject. Poe hadn’t seen, it was immediately after his F-16 was sent into a terrifying spiral nearly level to the horizon. The Commander was waiting on confirmation for the Air-to-Air kill.

“That elevation was way too high,” Cassian chided.

Poe chewed his cheek and looked up with uneven pupils, but was cut off by Cassian again when he began to answer. Motion trails still danced behind every sight, and he blinked slowly as he watched his friend and Commander divide into two, then into three carbon copies.  

“You’re skilled at evasive maneuvers, we can all see that. But you need to use weapons, not acrobatics. Had you done that in a timely way, you wouldn’t have had to climb so high your compressor stalled.”

Unsure of how much blame was mechanical and how much stemmed from his own reluctance to fire, Poe wondered what went so wrong.

“With all due respect, that altitude is what saved him,” Bodhi interjected. His lips pressed together in a tight line.

“No. He should’ve had your 6 and not been hesitating,” Cassian turned to Bodhi, who had been alone by the freight ship during the majority of the fight. The mission had been to protect the disabled freighter ship full of supplies for ground troops, as rescue operations were completed. When the team of jets came, the squadron took the bait and followed, leaving a single F-16, Bodhi, to guard it. He and the ship were put in a position of vulnerability.

“How many types of AIMs do you have on board? It doesn’t have to be a knife fight in a phone booth- They should’ve never been able to get that close.” Cassian paced in front of the newer pilot, gesturing in anger. “Use a fucking Sparrow next time, before you get the rest of us killed.”

“I’m sorry, Commander. It won’t happen again.” Poe looked down as the medic fit his neck brace. His reply was groggy as he fought off sleep. His actions almost got him and his squadron killed?

Cassian and Bodhi excused themselves, leaving Poe to replay the events again, to clarify. He’d been given a clear order to redirect the initial F-5s that began to swarm over the ship with evasive maneuvers. When the first missile flew, he dropped a few decoy flares to draw the course away from his and his squadron’s planes, then…

Blank.

The memory began to split like a mosaic, the tiles carved of more emotion than fact until the ratio was dangerously skewed. He remembered the sweat, the grip on his chest. The sensation of the harness around him, confinement. A brief moment of wondering whether it would be wise to eject. And, the vision he had of falling into pitch darkness as he reached out to you.

A few moments of silence passed, before the young medic asked Poe to stand for a few more assessments. “It sounds like you’re lucky to be alive. Must have someone looking out for you up there.”

“Yeah, apparently so.” Poe sighed, bringing a hand gingerly to the small gold talisman around his neck.

“What exactly happened?”

“I… I don’t really know.”

* * *

Baze lifted the tray out of the kiln. You’d been so anxious about Poe’s well-being over the last couple days that you forgot entirely about your studio day. “This one’s always temperamental, but I think you’ll be pleased.”

The glaze turned out much better than you expected, a soft ombré fade from white to black against the round pot. You smiled in contentment, pleased with your work. “Wow! Yeah. Thanks so much for helping me.”

“It’s been great to have you around. Too bad we won’t be seeing you as much now that Kaori is done with her English class.”

Your heart fell a little. Of course you’d continue to see Chirruit and Baze in the ceramics studio, but not as often now that their niece didn’t require tutoring. So much of your time during Poe’s deployment was spent with the family, and both your skill at pottery and connection to them had grown.

“Awww, come on. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Baze.”

The ponytailed man smiled at you, wiping chalky hands on his apron. “And Poe?”

“He’s okay. I was scared for a while but then he called last night. It’s bad over there, but he won’t talk about it. He never tells me about his missions.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“But I’m not some delicate flower. Yeah, I was a wreck when I thought he might be dead, but I know he’s in a war. He can talk to me, he probably needs to. There must be horrible things he’s seeing.”

“But he’s still in it. Give him space to process it in his time.”

You worried about your husband, his optimistic nature and seemingly boundless confidence could be an asset or a liability when it came to those dangerous flights. Last you heard, he was headed over Saudi territory, which was a relief over the more dangerous areas in Yemen.

* * *

Setting up the laptop next to him, Poe found the YouTube video he was seeking. It was strange not having a guitar to hide behind when singing, but he’d make due. Your tone had been so pained during the phone call that he wanted to brighten your spirits.

Poe couldn’t harmonize well with the video, his voice much more ragged than the deep, silky croon of the Argentine singer, but he knew you’d understand why he chose it.

When you first moved in with him and Finn, it was the anniversary of the death of Poe’s father and he’d been missing him terribly. Together you stayed up late, singing along to old Leo Dan records that used to belong to Kes as you exaggeratedly acted out the plots of the songs, swooning and holding your hands wistfully over your heart. What started out sad ended up being a happy memory, one that Poe thought would be good to channel again.

The beat started, a poppy ‘60s love ballad. Holding up his phone to record, Bodhi began to cringe awkwardly because it felt like he was the one being serenaded. He avoided eye contact as he recorded Poe’s song, tempted to erupt in laughter.

Este destino me lleva hasta el final _  
Destiny takes me to the end_

Donde algún día mi amor te encontrara _  
Where someday my love will find you_

Ay amor divino _  
Oh divine love_

Como te extraño _  
How I miss you_

Without his guitar across his lap, he felt naked and gave a sheepish grin to the camera when he finished. “I’ll write again soon, okay? Maybe another email so it doesn’t take as long, but I’ll probably have to bribe someone to get online. Unless you still want paper ones, I don’t know. Love you.”

As Poe thanked him with a hug, Bodhi joked, “Somehow I’m always the third wheel, huh?”


	25. Fall of Icarus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe is frustrated and wants to fly again as he recovers from his injury, while you enjoy some success back home. What goes up, must come down.

“Dios mio…”

You laughed, imagining Poe’s face when he opened the email. It was nice making him squirm for a change. “Hmmm, so you like that?”

“Yeah! You’re killing me, though. I’m dead for real now, thanks to you and that short skirt.”

Adjusting his neck brace, he took another peek at the photos you sent, wearing an open olive shirt tied just under your bra, mock Air Force rank patches on the sleeve, matching miniskirt and heels. Remembering that he mentioned liking the vintage hose with the seam down the back, you made sure to include a shot looking over your shoulder as you pulled one up your thigh. That was his favorite of the bunch.

Finished off with red lips, your hair was swept up in thick waves around your face, then pinned back in double curls over an off-centered part. Victory rolls, the style was called. When you Googled how to do the ‘40s hairdo, you also learned it was named after an aerobatic maneuver. Poe always appreciated little facts like that, but the thoughtfulness of this mattered more- and obviously, he appreciated _other_ things about it.

Around Valentine’s Day, he wrote a letter with a little joke about imagining each other in the World War Two era, and it sparked an idea. You ordered a pin-up costume to take a couple photos to surprise him, then completely forgot about it when you heard about the death of the pilot in Yemen. A few days later, you received a package in the mail and remembered the plan for your husband overseas. Jyn helped you with your hair and offered to take them.

“I miss you. It’s been so good to talk more often. You’ve been less busy?”

Rubbing his temples again, the pilot sighed. As much as he wanted to look at you, the light from the laptop was giving him another headache and he shut the power down. “I don’t want to scare you like that again, so I’m taking every chance I can now to call.”

He didn’t want to tell you the real reason he found more opportunities to talk: the failed neurocognitive tests that kept him grounded for the last few missions while the rest of his squadron needed him.

“Thank you, Corazón.”

“For what?”

“The pictures for my spank bank.”

Giggling into the receiver, you didn’t want him to go again so soon. You missed the smell of his skin when it mingled with fresh sheets and kissing the dented tip of his nose before he left for the day. Days were lonely at Kadena, when your closest friend was working and your tutoring students were in class. “You’re very welcome. Come home soon and you’ll get the real deal.”

“You have no idea how bad I want that,” Poe answered in a low tone. “All I can imagine is you wearing that as you moan under me.”

It immediately sent your mind to a place where your mouth was pressed against Poe’s Adam’s apple, feeling the vibration of his voice and the rough stubble of his neck against your lips. 6 months, without his kiss. The memory was a current of a vast river, threatening to pull you under.  

“…how loud do you think I could get you?” He pressed, although the little privacy he had at Al Anad meant unfortunately the dirty calls and dirtier Skype sessions you both loved weren’t an option. The frustration was mutual. Still, he loved to excite you with hints of what he had in mind when he returned to Okinawa.

“Oh, I think you could set a new record, with how much I miss you. Great idea by the way, the vintage pin-up thing.”

“I’ll say. You’re always full of great ideas.”

Your smile faded at his words, replaced by concern. “Ummm, Poe? It was pretty much your idea.”

——-

“Takeoff should be scattered winds, 8 knots. 15,000 to 25,000 feet we’re expecting some turbulence and…”

Poe scratched at the notepad on the tabletop in front of him, trying to gulp down his anxiety and focus on the preflight briefing despite the ache in his head. It was transient, seeming to appear at the worst times and sending him into a fuzzy No Man’s Land between nightmare and reality.

“Dameron. Head in the clouds already?” Cassian asked. 

All eyes fell on the dark-haired captain, but he didn’t respond.

“ _Dameron_.”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Poe finally looked up when the sensation of being watched caught up with him. Another pilot furled her brow and looked away in annoyance, and Bodhi shot him an expression of concern.

The mission was to take out an Yemeni Air Force base that had been seized by rebels. It was how they gained the jets that had complicated the last mission Poe was on, and the fall of weapons into enemy hands proved to be especially deadly for the allies. After much political infighting, the US gave an ultimatum to destroy the entire base, where a majority of Houthi rebels were believed to be, or they would withdraw land and air support. Reluctantly, the government agreed.

“Are you with us?” Cassian asked, and a pit grew in Poe’s stomach at being asked the question in the company of his peers and a full-bird colonel. Straightening his posture, he raised his chin and tried to suppress the embarrassing flush of his face.

“Yes, Commander.”

His mouth fell open, examining the binder full of specifications for the mission. Reading the same lines of text, again and again, he struggled to make sense of it. The ground maintenance crew gave him a signal, holding up a hand for five minutes until full equipment inspection.

Unable to pull Poe aside after the briefing, Cassian caught up to him on the flight line. He wasn’t happy about Poe being back so soon after his injury, but the commanding officers wanted the full squadron on this important mission and he had been cleared for duty the day earlier. “Hey. I need you at a hundred percent today. Can you do that?”

When he turned Poe head, the motion trails returned. Not today. Not when he was cleared for duty after nine days in medical  with nothing to do. Not when this could be the mission that turned the tide after months. This could be their ticket home.

“Yeah. I’m…”

The Commander detected the hesitation in his words and an unsettling feeling washed over him when he looked at Poe. He couldn’t place it. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on but you have to be honest. We don’t need this to go South because of you.”

A flash of defensiveness broke out of Poe’s mouth, “I’m fine. Let’s just do this thing so everyone can get the fuck out of here.”

Cassian clenched his jaw at Poe’s tone. This was the first exchange between them since Poe was initially being tended to.

He didn’t appreciate being blamed for a potential mission failure, and it wounded him to come from someone he admired as much as Cass. The last mission hadn’t failed, Bodhi assured him that, but he lacked a clear memory of it. Things went wrong obviously, but the objective was completed. Still, Cassian had avoided checking on him after landing that day, just over a week prior.

“Captain.”

Poe ascended the ladder into the cockpit of the F-16 and took a deep breath as he fastened the harness. He smacked his lips at the metallic taste in his mouth, writing it off as simply a case of nerves after the spin. He didn’t remember landing the jet, or much of anything, but he did remember the sensation of feeling like he was suffocating behind his visor and the surface of the Earth tumbling around him.

“Captain?”

With one hand gripping the ladder, the maintenance officer waved his hand in front of Poe again. He blinked in confusion at the petite woman.

“Your life support, Captain? You left it on the table.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled through a constricted throat to dismiss her. It was almost time for takeoff.

“Are… you okay to fly?” She searched his espresso eyes, which seemed glassy. Refusing to meet her gaze, he fixed instead on the panel of controls in front of him, her nasally voice growing distant, like a radio station gradually turning to static as you drive out of range.

——-

Chirruit nodded in your direction, “You’ve come a long way in a short time. The work you’ve been putting in really comes through in the pieces.”

Sipping a glass of Pinot Grigio, you felt the squeeze of anxiety as you surveyed the crowd. Baze and a Chirruit’s small ceramics shop buzzed with activity as potters, sculptors and patrons examined the works on display.

Again, your cheeks burned with what could be described as bashfulness, but you hated that word. People were not only praising your work, but three of your vases sold. When you noticed the little red dots on the title cards, your heart lept with pride. That didn’t diminish the awkwardness of it all, having your work on display when you didn’t consider yourself an artist at all.

“But I’m not artsy. I just started doing this ‘cause I was bored and… well, I really like it.”

Jyn crinkled her nose, tossing a bit of brunette hair from her face. “That’s how most hobbies start!”

“Hobbies sure, but I’m no artist.”

Chirruit put his hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to be anything. Just create.”

Another red dot was placed on a large bowl you threw on the wheel, etched with a herringbone pattern and soft glaze. Holding back a grin, a bit of pride sprung up in your chest.

This was the first time you experienced that beaming feeling of accomplishment outside the lab, the first in a long time. Each piece of pottery was a small part of you. And although the hobby couldn’t quell the deep desire in you to return to the research you loved, it did fill a creative gap in your life that was previously undetected, like a vast sinkhole about to open up. Just before that happened, you climbed out with hands covered in wet slip and a cautious grin as you gained more and more skill on the wheel.

It reminded you of the beaming confidence Poe had, as if failure was an alien concept. You didn’t have it to his degree, but assumed this might be a bit what it tasted like. Wishing he was here to share the moment, your eyes flicked around and you took another sip in case the buyer wanted to speak to you.

“Look at that, you’re a sell-out already,” Baze nudged to draw your attention to the last piece of art sold. He led you to a shelf toward the back, lined with pieces you had never seen before. You fell silent in front of them.

”I wanted to show you something special,” he said. “It’s called kinstugi.”

A large bowl was propped up on display, brilliant lines of gold cutting across it randomly. Another vase, this one split into many sections, married together with gold. Random paths, geometrical intersections formed where they had been broken, then painstakingly pieced back together with precious metal. 

“They’re shattered,” you spoke softly. A curious finger lifted toward the shelf, and Baze offered a small nod of reassurance that you were allowed to touch. Fingertip skimming the ridges where ceramic met metal, you were in awe of how lovely they were. “The lacquer is made of gold? Real gold?”

“Yes, well, laced with it. Kinstugi reminds us that our wounds can add to our value, our beauty. Painful experience is the catalyst of transformation.”

Baze knew you were frustrated, practically banging your head against the wall as the months ticked by. Separated from your professional passion and from your husband, he empathized. Pottery was a newfound love, but you craved purpose beyond the life of a housewife with a hobby. Fascinated, your eyes only tore away from the mended ceramics when the gentleness of his voice struck you. Brows furrowed slightly, he tried to read your expression as you took another sip of wine, yet found it indecipherable. 

At last, you spoke. “Thank you, sensei.”

——

“Atlanta, born and raised.”

“Nice, I love Atlanta. I grew up in Valdosta. My parents were stationed at Moody.” Poe had told him that before. The nurse had also introduced himself as Wedge, twice, but in his anxiety Poe forgot they had this conversation a week earlier. Banter helped to soothe this nerves.

“We’re gonna get your EEG soon. How are you feeling- other than talkative? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Poe sat up and spun his wedding band around his knuckle. “Dizzy. And it tastes like I’ve been sucking on a battery.”

“Sounds like it was wise to stay out of the cockpit today,” Wedge answered.

Poe’s stomach turned, knowing the man was right but also feeling shame and guilt for not being out with his squadron. Right now, they were dropping bombs. Not that Poe was jealous that they got to do that, specifically, but he missed being a part of the team and feeling useful. “But I’m okay, really. Just a little distracted earlier, I’m ready to be flying again.”

Wedge ran his tongue along his teeth, diverting his eyes from Poe as he went over the chart again. Noticing, he leaned closer and tilted his head. The movement still caused pain to ring out, even though he was told the neck brace wasn’t a necessity anymore.

“Well, you’re lucky to be alive at all. First, the initial concussion when you started the spin- and if it wasn’t for your helmet, adios dude- and the second blow to the head when you corrected the spin.” Wedge tied his arm and poked for a suitable vein. “Never mind whatever g-force was sloshing your brain around during all that.” 

Flinching against the needle, Poe held a questioning finger up, only to lower without any way to articulate the swirl of questions in his mind. He felt like he was in the eye of a tornado, the world a violent vortex around him while he stood in it’s still heart.

“You must be one Hell of a pilot.”

After hours waiting on test results, Poe’s doctor shuffled into his room.

The doctor’s face went out of focus again, and Poe groaned. Everything had been so clear a minute ago, before the letters TBI hung in the air over him: traumatic brain injury. While he appreciated how candid Wedge was, the words filled him with a cocktail of nausea and confusion.

“But… I’m just out of it. It’s not like a real seizure.”

“It’s real, just non convulsive. These are Petit Mal, or absence seizures. No jerking or anything, but your brain is still misfiring. That’s why you feel like this.”

It didn’t make any sense. Two days ago, Poe passed the Stoop test to gauge his reaction times. Green ink, word red. Purple ink, word blue. The repeated back the names of the words and the font colors, rapid succession. Green ink, word monkey. Red ink, word mouse. His neck still hurt, but his mind was sharp. Most of the time.

“There’s gotta be a mistake,” Poe stammered, “I was cleared for duty.”

Watching a damn fine pilot get stripped of his wings was hard, and Wedge’s chest weighed heavy for Poe. The nurse wrung his hands in the quiet space after the question, knowing his answer wasn’t evoking a positive response. “A delayed reaction is common, and can develop into permanent epilepsy, but the latent period can be months, even years. We can medicate you, but we just have to wait.”

“Wait for?”

“We’ll put you on medical profile for now but there’s no way you’re flying for a good while.”

“Are you serious? _No!_ “ Poe jumped to his feet, incredulous. Rage welled up within him, saturating his dizzy mind. This was his identity, his life. He was a pilot, not an epileptic.

“Captain Dameron—“

“With all due respect, flew and landed a Viper like this. I recovered from a fucking flat spin. I’m fine!”

“This is different than the initial injury, Poe. You passed the neurocognitive exams yesterday and that was probably before the first seizure. And this type is uncommon after a traumatic brain injury. But now you’ve had one in the cockpit, about to take off…”

“ _I’m fucking fine!_ ”

Poe kicked a wheeled stool, sending it crashing into a tray table with a hollow bang as Wedge turned away. He thrashed, looking for something to destroy. Anything. With a thud, his fist found the closest wall, knuckles cracking and crunching against the surface. Again. This wasn’t happening. Again. It wasn’t all being taken away. Again. 

Finally, his head hung down, as he supported himself with his bloodied hand against the wall. The room was quiet, but his heart screamed to hold onto his dream. Poe crumpled to the floor, cold terrazzo. A memory of his mother, clear as a sunrise, came to him.

*

_He tiptoed into the chicken coop, on his daily mission to collected eggs. The hens were content to brood, but the rooster couldn’t be found this morning. Poe hated the rooster, its black feathers reflecting a brilliant jade as it chased him out of the coop. He was grateful to see it wasn’t inside today._

_Bending down to the warming light, he scooped up a softly peeping chick. It was black, with a pale yellow chest. It looked like a fuzzy bumble bee, and he lifted it high to get a closer view through the beam of light streaming in from a high window. It calmly looked back at his young face, curious.  
_

_The rooster burst through the entrance of the small wooden and wire shelter, its loud, strangled scream sending Poe’s body into panic. As Poe screamed, he dropped the fragile chick onto the concrete underfoot.  
_

_“It’s not your fault, mijo. It was an accident.” Shara insisted. Poe’s face was buried in her thick curls as she squeezed him. Shaking with guilt, he cursed himself for being so scared of the rooster, for letting go of the creature who trusted him. His mother pressed a kiss to his forehead, and used the sleeve of her blouse to dry the stream of tears running down his cheek.  
_

_The image of the broken chick haunted him, its twig-like leg twitching as he backed away, calling to her in horror._

*

He was Icarus, lifted up on confidence with wings of wax, only to be melted as he approached the sun itself. Poe rose close to the maximum altitude when he was outmaneuvering the enemy jets, instead of firing. He was caught up in what he was great at, aerobatics, and his well-intentioned hubris caused the downfall. Falling, swiftly, toward the sea, just like the Greek myth. Optimism fading as he lost altitude swiftly, Poe again felt like Icarus. Pulled down by cruel gravity, gasping for a breath that wouldn’t be granted.

And now, he gasped again at the stark reality of it all. He felt broken.


	26. Shock and Awe - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major spoilers for previous chapter! Poe returns home after many months of deployment overseas, with lots of very explicit angst to process after the injury grounds him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A light Dom/Sub theme with some roughness and plenty of kink. I’m 100% into emotional smut and this is my favorite smut chapter because of it. Buckle up.

You froze, keys still swung from the lock, the star shaped charm glimmering in the golden evening light that filtered through the open door. He was a mirage, liable to disappear back into your daydreams at a moment’s notice. Mouth falling open slightly, your breath hitched at the sight.

Your pilot was home, after 7 painful months.

Poe was lounging back on the sofa, wearing a faded t-shirt and blue jeans. His bare feet were tucked under his curled body, eyes closed. He hadn’t shaved, the rugged jaw that usually sported a generous dusting of stubble now obscured by a short, dark beard. So casual, as if this was commonplace to return to after your Wednesday afternoon ceramics class. As if he hadn’t just been plucked from his life with you and dropped into one of the most violent conflict zones on Earth. As if you hadn’t been returning to a lonely apartment, comforted by the tap of B.B.’s little nails on the tile rather than your husband’s voice calling to you.

Knees faltering, emotions crashed over you as you stood in the doorway.

Poe’s hickory eyes met yours as he woke to the sound of the door clicking closed, dazed for a moment as he stared at you through a veil of sleep. When it dawned on him that he was really home and you were really in front of him, Poe sprung to his feet, his body crashing into yours. Enveloping you, the solidity of his chest against yours summoned tears immediately. He was here. Finally.

Overcome with relief and happiness, your body melted against his warmth and your fingers gripped around his strong shoulders. It wasn’t possible to communicate in words what you were feeling, a flood of pent-up fear, frustration and sorrow released through your eyes as your tears spread a dark blot across your husband’s shirt.

As you tilted your head back to look at him, Poe went in for a soft kiss. The taste of it filled your chest like the vibration of a tuning fork, resonating through your body. Immediately your fingers laced in his midnight curls and you pushed back into him. The bristle of his facial hair was new, but that taste still so familiar, uniquely his chemistry.

Gently, his calloused fingertips traced along your cheek to wipe the tears, then found the nape of your neck as his tongue slowly entered your mouth. The contact of the slick muscle made you jump, your touch-starved body responding with excitement already. Poe’s lips were supple, a loving communication of devotion as he pushed against you so intimately. His nimble tongue encircled the tip of your own, sending a shiver of goosebumps down your arms. Torn between drawing out the tender kiss and speaking to him, looking at his face, you finally broke from his mouth slowly and leaned back to take in his handsome features.

“How?” you questioned, choking down a sob. This moment was what he’d been dreaming about for months, and it had come actualized. 8 days ago, he told you he was about to go on another mission over the Eastern border with his squadron. He lied- the truth was, he hadn’t flown in weeks.

Poe needed more time to feel normal, as if his location on the map was the only thing that changed in the last months. He didn’t want to explain that he’d been keeping another secret from you or get into details about the injury, the diagnosis. He didn’t want to be asked about the flight suit that didn’t come back with him from the base at Al Anad. All he wanted was to enjoy you after so much longing. Clenching his jaw, his responded after a few quiet seconds.

“I don’t wanna talk about it now.”

Confusion painted your face, not quite understanding his reluctance.   
“I just? I’m so glad you’re home but I thought you said—“

“Later.” His hands needed to become reacquainted with every detail of your body, molding to every curve as they moved over your clothed form. Unhurried, studying. From your neck down to your breasts. to your stomach and hips, grazing the sensitive nipples again through your shirt as he made the return to your neck.

“Right now I wanna hear you moan. Tell me, who do you belong to?”

“You. I belong to you. But—“

The fingers that were cupping the nape of your neck came swiftly, dragging along your jawline before he inserted this thumb into your mouth. Eyes widening again in surprise, you ran your tongue under it and began sucking without breaking eye contact. He’d get whatever he wanted right now.

“Shhhh… That’s right.”

What Poe wanted to feel masculine, powerful, assertive. Those things had been stripped from him so dramatically and he needed to fight for them. He couldn’t do the other things in life he loved, but he could take your body with a shock and awe campaign, stunning you with a sexual show of force. He wanted to feel dangerous.

He felt a rush of blood fill his cock, and grasped your ass as he pressed his half-hard shape against you. The immediate submission you offered brought a litany of ideas to his mind, but he wanted to keep it a little rough. Withdrawing his thumb from the wetness of your mouth, Poe brought that hand down to knead with aggression. Harder already.

Bent at the knuckles, his fingers raked along your ass and thighs in concentric circles. The fabric of your leggings provided a little glide as he massaged the round area and he let out a groan of want. Moisture bloomed between your legs, his hands on your ass always a favorite turn-on. You needed more, to prove to him that indeed- you did belong to him. Even after he was away so long. Always.

Poe dropped to his knees, looking up at you with lustful eyes before he lifted your shirt and undid the claps of your bra. Bringing your hands to caress the stiff beard along his jaw, you examined his face in the dim light. Almost like a different man with the new beard, his deep-set eyes and the faint scar on his right cheek reminded you this was still your husband. Still, there was a thrill to be had at the contrast between how he looked for the last three years and now, returning from Yemen. If only you knew how much it had changed him.

Pushing the cups away, his hands engulfed the soft mounds before he licked along the crease where the underside of your breast met your chest. His tongue flicked across one nipple as he caught its twin between his fingers, leaving your knees weak. The softness of his kiss wasn’t present here, this was a conquering. Teeth came down quickly around your nipple, only to retreat as soon as the contact was made.

Gasping his name, your voice was meant to be seductive but came out closer to a beg. The sound absolutely irresistible, Poe knew he’d have to tease it out of you as long as possible.

“What do you want, mi amor? You’ve gotta ask nicely.”

Memories came back to you, when he grabbed and spanked and fucked you hard as you whined for more. He asked that same question, in that same tone. You liked him, but neither of you was in love yet after only a few weeks of official dating. It was a product of tension and lust. As incredible as it was, you immediately regretted treating a relationship with such potential so casually, but he didn’t treat you any differently after. Somehow your dynamic allowed it, and Poe always tempered kink with the right amount of affection afterwards. Because of that, you trusted him.

Plenty of things crossed your mind, but one was the clear choice now. “Spank me.”

A jolt of pain shot through your chest as his teeth clamped down on your nipple, punishing you already.

“Where are your manners? But I guess you deserve that spanking, it’ll remind you to say please.”

Poe’s eyes were dark in both intention and hue. You looked down at him on his knees before you as you stood in the living room, your shirt pulled up to expose your breasts. The glint in his eye made you wet, a dangerous edge to it that you barely recognized. A hand braced your hip, turning you into an about face. Poe bit your ass hard through your leggings, summoning even more wetness between your thighs. 

_FUCK!_

You were on the floor now, shoved you down roughly. That was unexpected- Poe always bent you over his knee so his mouth-watering cock pressed against you during the punishing foreplay. Getting your bearings, you propped yourself up with your hands on the rug, letting out a sigh of excitement. On your hands and knees now, such a submissive little toy for your deserving pilot. Your hero deserved whatever he wanted now, and he wanted to own you. 

“Mmmm… That’s perfect. Stay just like that,” he commanded, running a hand along the curve of your lower back up to the round thickness of your butt. He gripped you again as he positioned himself behind and slightly to the side.

“Poe I—“

WHACK

The sudden sting found its way through you, filling your mind with so much sin. So long without. Every second he wasn’t buried deep in you was painful in your want. Body trembling with anticipation, you craved his dominance. The desire was too intense, your swollen pussy drenching your panties and leggings with wetness as you squirmed for him.

“Forget your manners again and you won’t be able to sit for days.”

WHACK

Another strike, buzzing through the thin material of your leggings. The mark of his wide hand burned on your tender skin. That authoritative voice practically made you cream, and you titled your ass up higher, presenting yourself to him like an animal in heat.

“What a pretty sight… You wanna get fucked, don’t you?”

WHACK

Biting back a scream, you writhed under him as the nerves on your backside tingled and scorched with the harsh blows. Erection struggling for freedom and conquest in his jeans, Poe drank in the sight of you on your knees. The way your half-exposed tits jiggled after each spank, the smooth expanse of skin he was abusing with hard smacks. All of it so vivid, so erotic. 

“Yes. Yes, Captain …”

_Captain_. It was rare you called him that during sex, the first time when he earned the rank and once after, but when it happened he became unhinged. He ripped your leggings and soaked panties down around your thighs. The sight of your bare skin as you wiggled your hips in a show for him was too much, and he thought about taking you ruthlessly right in that moment. He brought his zipper down, the sound of the teeth making its way to your ears past your excited, ragged breaths. He was finally going to sate your hunger, after months of loneliness during his deployment. Closing your eyes, you braced yourself in waiting for his gorgeous body. Instead, he wrapped a hand around himself and began to pump his own erection.

WHACK

“You get fucked when I say you get fucked. Is that clear?”

Something shattered. You knew it was a game, and that you’d be rewarded soon, but Poe denying you was more than a tease. In your mind, he died briefly at the Port of Midi. After three days, he was resurrected in a late night phone call. You were comforted by his calls and emails since then, but you needed his body, to confirm. Yes, alive. Complete. And you weren’t complete without him.

“Poe… I need you.”

He sensed it in your voice, teetering on the edge of a breakdown that was equal parts emotion and frustration. Sliding two fingers deftly between your folds, he took mercy on you. The wetness he felt made him ache for you even more, and the grip around his penis tightened. Hips rising to meet his touch, Poe pushed his fingers up to your g-spot, teasing you in a _come_ _hither_ motion. Two fingers, now three.

Throwing your head back, you moaned loudly at the penetration. Poe watched as hair fell over your shoulders, tits still exposed from your lifted shirt, on all fours. Running his free hand along the top of your head, he skimmed your hair until he reached your shoulders, where he grasped a handful of it and jerked. More pain, white in your vision as your scalp burned. His fingers pulled out suddenly, arm in recoil.

WHACK

Like a branding iron, his touch claimed you as his. Stinging. Burning. Longing. 

He couldn’t tell you yet. Not about the dogfight with insurgents over the port, not about the compressor stall and subsequent spin that nearly sent him into the Red Sea. Not about the brain injury from being snapped against the canopy of the F-16 twice. Not about the seizures. Not about being grounded, his wings clipped due to the new diagnosis. He couldn’t use language for meaningful connection yet, just sexual enhancement.

“Can’t you feel how wet I am?! Give it to me already…” you whined, arching your ass in the air to tempt him, resting on your forearms and knees. Your skin was mottled and welted from the space in the ridges between his fingers.

WHACK

“What did I tell you—“

WHACK

“—about when you get fucked?”

WHACK

Each blow was harder than the last, your husband’s voice laced with a tension that wasn’t just sensual. He was angry at himself, angry at the world. He’d lost control over his life. Somehow he could control a jet at Mach 2, yet he couldn’t control his own brain, his own destiny. You became a vessel for him to prove his competence to himself, because one thing he could still do well was fuck. Somehow it seemed healthier to spend his anger in an act that brought you both blissful gratification rather than in an act of self destruction.

At once, Poe penetrated you, forcefully pushing through the juicy, swollen lips that had been screaming to receive him. Your knees were still pinched together as you posed on your hands and knees, making your pussy even tighter as he rammed himself in unceremoniously. No teasing with the glistening tip against the entrance, no gradual push as you stretched to accommodate his girth: Just that animalistic urge, acted upon in an instant. Thick brows furrowing, he was going to fuck you dirty, spending the energy of his resentment in your eager body. 

Muscles tensing as he pierced into your wet depth, you let out a scream. It was painful, yes, but the pain was matched by pleasure and a genuine sense of relief. Since the moment his hazelnut eyes became clouded by lust and he asked who you belonged to, you were ready. It was never a question: him. Him entirely.

“There,” Poe growled as he shoved himself within, “is that what you were craving?”

Fingers curving around your hipbones, there was a sharpness, a severity to his thrusts. You squealed as he ravaged your trembling body. He needed to feel powerful, to feel that he wasn’t broken. That he could do something right. Poe thrusted hard, but you couldn’t scream, not vocally. Instead your mouth hung open at the feeling of being overcome. Poe was thick and merciless, moving his hips with a cruel precision that brought the top of his penis just to your cervix in this position. Usually he backed off a little so as not to bruise you, but not now. Filling the space entirely, the feeling of your softness around his throbbing length was an answer to so many late night prayers- both yours and his.

Ass jiggling, your hips rolled around him. Every detail of your void would be touched, each sensation sending you into a plane of erotic pleasure you hadn’t enjoyed since he left 7 months ago. So rough, your knees were already starting to become raw from the friction against the rug. Poe’s wide hands steadied themselves around your pelvis as he pumped into you, his muscular thighs brushing against the back of your own as a trickle of fluid leaked down. 

“I can’t hear you,” he whispered, pausing his movements while he was completely ensheathed. When only your panting breath answered, he yanked another handful of your hair, tipping your head back in painful response.

“Oh yes! Yes, Captain!”

“Maybe you don’t deserve to get it, huh?” Poe teased as he quickly withdrew his length, a mix of his precome and your cream spilling from between your legs.

“I _do!_ I _do!_ Please…” Digging the heels of your hands into the rug, you shoved your ass back as his cock retreated from your snug warmth. You needed him, and he was torturing you. Wild desperation in your voice turned him on even more, and even though he wanted nothing more than to fuck you senseless, the sight of you pressing back into him couldn’t be passed up. Fucking you could wait; this was about dominance.

“Please let me have it… Captain.”

“I don’t think so, not in that sweet little pussy,”

 A smirk lifted his face for the first time since he arrived in Okinawa. Turning to him with a pained expression, you appealed again, nearly through tears. It was almost a surprise to see he was mostly still dressed, his soft t-shirt pulled up and dark-wash jeans pooled at the floor around his knees. Depriving you, after a delicious taste.

“But you _can_ take it…” Again, Poe’s guitar-worn fingers skimmed the intimately moist layer of flesh just on the inside on your mouth. “Here.”

Whimpering, still on all fours, you hesitated as you licked your lips before the round tip of his cock. He was becoming impatient.

“Ponlo en tu boca,” he ordered. _Put it in your mouth._

Hit with the sharp taste of your combined arousal, you felt renewed wetness between your thighs as Poe moaned in appreciation. Swallowing it and flattening your tongue over the sensitive veins with enthusiasm, you hoped he would reward your good behavior. Your eyes flicked up, cheeks hollow as you slid up his length. Running your tongue along the ridge under the head, you moaned in agreement. He loved every second of it, although he missed the sensation of ramming into your tight body from behind. 

“Mmmmm… Such a good girl.” Poe bit his lip, struggling to maintain composure.

His eyes closed as the suction around him increased and you cupped his balls, keeping him heated everywhere. Cunt aching to be filled, you bobbed up and down around his dick as he forced his tired eyes open to watch. Kissing and licking from the base to the tip, you drew a trail with your tongue along the length of his impressive erection. When you immersed it within your soft, submissive mouth again, he thought he might come right then. 

Poe brought both hands to the back of your head. Just before he guided you, the anger he felt faded away. His rage at the world burned out like a flare in the night sky.

_Gone.  
_

Only you were left, offering yourself to him for the first time in more than half a year. His solace, his sanctuary. And Poe had you begging on your knees- even though you were thoroughly enjoying it, you deserved more in this moment. Connection. 

Poe realized what he’d been doing, making a big production out of your reunion, and for what? To prove to himself that he was still good at something. To feel masculine, he was playing a role. He didn’t want to be himself right now, didn’t want to be the person who fucked up and ruined their own shot at greatness. So, he used sex to distract himself- and you- from the set of clipped wings on his back and the blips of darkness in his mind. 

“Corazón… Let me…”

Pausing, his change of tone stunned you. The harshness had disappeared, he was subdued asking permission now. You offered one receptive word. “Yes.”

His hands slipped under your arms, pulling you upright onto your knees to hold you against his chest. Too much, it was all too much. Poe didn’t realize this would happen, and it wasn’t his intention to spend the first moments reunited subjecting you to an anger you had no part in creating. Yes, it was kink and sexual frustration- but it was also so much more. He squeezed you in an apology you didn’t understand.

“Let me make you feel good.” 

As you nodded, he leaned forward to kiss you with passionate love. Gripping you as he rose to his feet, Poe brought you up and shuffled to the wall as his lips massaged yours. As your back pressed into the drywall, he lifted a thigh to wrap around him. Silky warmth from your legs wrapping around his bare ass made him shudder. 

His mouth trailed up and down your throat and shoulders before he pulled your shirt overhead, then his own. Pressing into your humid skin so quickly, it made a noise when his sternum pressed into the gap between your breasts. Tenderly, like before, Poe’s mouth was against yours. The hand that wasn’t kneading your thigh raised to your chin as his tongue gingerly flicked against you own. No teeth, no nips. Just two supple lips that craved yours.

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” he murmured as he nuzzled the slightly coarse beard against the softness of your cheek. This time Poe entered slowly, heavy eyes asking permission before he advanced past the outer barrier into the heated core of body. Sighing as he pressed within the tip of his thick cock in, your fingertips hooked into the firm muscle of his shoulders as pleasure overtook you both.

Clenching the walls of your body, you brought both legs up around Poe as his hips rocked in slow, deep motion. You were pinned, a position that should’ve made you feel nearly as helpless as being exposed on hands and knees on the rug a minute ago. Now, you felt a different kind of vulnerability, that of your husband. The role-play persona was gone and you were left with Poe, as he truly was. The beautiful, imperfect man you’d do anything for.

“Te amo, te amo…” repeated into your ear. _I love you._ It was the first time he’d said those words in person in so long.

Answering him between gasps for breath as Poe brought you closer and closer to the ultimate pleasure, the small of your back flattened against the wall as he angled for the best stimulation. His mouth curved into a faint involuntary smile at the snug intensity. More praise on his lips, bilingual because he knew you loved the way Spanish rolled off his tongue.

When you could manage to breathe through your nose, his scent permeated it. Leather and cinnamon and sandalwood, warm and comforting. It never changed.

Poe was enclosed within your legs, filling you, only to withdraw then fill you again. Each time the feeling of his penis slipping away made you want to lock him between your thighs, but he wasn’t going to tease any more at this point. For now, the thoughts of his seizures faded away, not even background noise as he focused on you. This moment was all about you.

Untangling an arm that was digging into the skin of his sweat-kissed upper back, you brought trembling fingers to caress his face. It wasn’t as different as it seemed when he was on his earlier power trip. Now you looked into his eyes at close range, his nose brushing against yours as his breath whispered against your lips. He continued to thrust into you, deliberately pausing for a heartbeat when he was all the way in. Your thumb ran across his jaw, enjoying the texture of his new facial hair before you grasped at his curls.

Throat burning with the gasps Poe coaxed out of you with each roll and buck of his hips, his name was released from your mouth in a delicate whisper as he reached the spot. It either melted you limp or sent you into a tense shriek, depending on the angle. Languidly, he spent his time there, sliding his length along all the secret areas that made your flushed mouth fall open.

Kissing you again fervently, sloppy and rushed, Poe moaned. He sucked your bottom lip as he withdrew the curve of his cock from your narrow opening, and let out a breath as it slid back in, his toned body holding you steady against the wall. Licking your neck now, the outer edge of your ear as his exhale whistled into it. The skill of his movements was abandoned as he gripped you, overcome with bliss. He savored these last moments of lovemaking, knowing a loss of control was imminent. The contrast Poe’s body's hardness against and within your softness. Hot breath. Sweat. Fingers interlaced in obsidian waves of hair. The expansion in the core of your body about to implode upon itself in a breathless climax.

Tossing his head was back as he flowed into you, he came with force. Your warmth sent Poe into a pleasurable spasm and a barely-incoherent thought process as your bodies shook in unison.

Higher.   
Stay with me.   
I don’t wanna come down.   
Right here.   
Together.

Groaning, he spilled into you, coating your inner walls as his hips jerked and finally slowed. His cheek pushed against yours as he was spent, fingers curling then going limp.

We’re okay.  
We’re okay.  
I’m here.

His forehead pressed against yours as he came down from his euphoria gradually, warm hands supporting your quivering legs as you unwrapped them. Slowly, you slid down the wall, bringing your feet to the floor again as your heart continued to bang against your rib cage. 

On the living room floor in a mess of sweat and wild hair, you sighed as the weight of Poe’s body pressed into you. Dragging fingertips along the angle of his shoulder blade, you absentmindedly caressed him. He leaned back on his forearms, smiling at you with a hazed expression. Examining him, you brought your finger to run along his high cheekbone, his little red scar, this prominent nose and dark, neat beard. You didn’t see him as a gifted pilot, a captain or soldier; this was your husband, your love. Your everything. 

The look in the dark twin galaxies of his eyes told you so much in silence. In this moment, in your arms, he didn’t feel as broken.

“Poe, baby… You’re home.”


	27. Four Letter Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe opens up about his accident, and you try to figure out where to go from there.

He watched particles of dust dancing in the air, catching the light like confetti. It still felt surreal to be home. Poe was still jet lagged badly from his trip, finally rousing enough to roll over in bed and shower you in another smatter of lazy kisses. Drawing you closer, he laughed, crushing you with a hug, “I’m never gonna let you go. You know that, right?”  
  
“But I need coffee… and Beebs really needs to go out.”

“I’ll take him, and I’ll fix you a cup. I don’t mind.”

With an exasperated sigh, you released Poe from the tangle of your legs and he rolled out of bed, tugging on the jeans discarded onto the floor the night earlier. From the doorway, Poe’s expression softened as he turned to meet your eyes, processing a dash of regret at the roughness of the prior night, tempered by the ache he felt at not telling you his secret yet. Relief mixed with dread, what a strange combination.

He needed longer, just a little while. Stretching your arms, you met his gaze with a reassuring smile before he turned. B.B.’s orange and white harness chimed against his tag, a happy little rhythm as the terrier strut on the sidewalk alongside Poe. He looked down, stepping over cracks and small sticks in bare feet. 

Poe had meditated on identity during his trip from Yemen back to Okinawa, wondering if labels simply obscured the person behind a pattern of letters. He was your pilot, you were his chemist. He was your husband, you were his wife. He was your pepper, you were his salt. He was your guitarist, you were his potter. 

But pilot? Five letters of disappointment. Shame. Another five letter word. Guilt. His squadron depended on him, and he was torn away when they needed backup. He tried not to think about what Cassian and Bodhi might be doing today. 

Plenty of four letter words rang through his mind, echoing like the drop of a wrench into a metal tool cart in the hangar. Pity. Rage. Fair. Among the litany of curses, there was one four letter word that Poe couldn’t quite face yet: Hope. Hope was insidious, the precursor to more disappointment.

After returning, Poe measured fragrant grounds of Café Bustelo into a French press, and whisked eggs together in a frothy base for omelettes. He swayed to Billie Holliday on the record player as you finished washing your face. Simple and domestic, it felt good to take care of you and fix breakfast. Normal. Singing along to “Them There Eyes”, he could briefly pretend like his world wasn’t crashing down from 40,000 feet like a jet temporarily rendered about as useless as a discarded tin can. _  
_

_You’d better look out little brown eyes if you’re wise_  
_Sparkle, bubble, get you in a whole lot of trouble_  
_I’m lookin’ for the boy with the wistful eyes_  
_I fell in love with them there eyes_

B.B. followed him like a shadow, and not only because Poe was known to sneak him bits of bacon. As per usual, the spry terrier circled around his bare feet as he stood over the stove. 

“That song always makes me think of you,” you mused, striding into the kitchen. Lost in the jazz singer’s creamy voice pouring warmly through the speakers, Poe joined in with feeling as he peeled strips of bacon from the package. It reminded you of the first time you spent the night together, his smoky voice contrasting with a classic record. He was a bit of an early bird and tended to sing in the morning, which brightened your mood considerably.

Trusting he would open up when ready, it was becoming hard to maintain your patience when so many questions remained unanswered. He didn’t have to take on a forlon expression for you to sense what remained yet unsaid. You knew something was wrong, the mood abruptly shifted from erotic to sorrowful during sex.  Since then, Poe had retreated from any interaction that wasn’t light, knowing the conversation would be messy, and he would have to tell you that he probably wasn’t getting back into the cockpit. He wasn’t ready to look into your face and find pity there.

“This is our secret, Beebs.”

“What secret?”

“Nothing. Just the snack I gave B.B.” Poe shrugged. “But you should be in bed. Breakfast in bed doesn’t work if you’re not in bed.”

“It’s like noon, we have to leave the bedroom some time.”

“Says who?” Poe asked, quirking a brow. “I just want to be in my own bed, with my own wife, with my own plate of eggs.”

Your nose crinkled. “Your own wife? As opposed to who’s wife, exactly?”

He shot you a deadpan expression and turned back to the stove. 

“Hey!” he blurted, turning back to you with a grin that carved deep parentheses from his mouth down to his chin. How you’d missed that expression the last 7 months. “Did you just throw a banana at me?!”

Tapping your nail on the counter next to a bowl of fruit, you nodded. “And I have plenty more ammunition here if you mouth off again.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Babe, you’re always mouthing off. And even when you aren’t, I know what you’re thinking.” 

Poe grabbed two mugs while the bacon hissed and popped, filling the air with the thick scent of grease. “So now we’re punishing thought crimes?”

“Oh, I’ll punish you all right.” 

“Get back in that bedroom, woman. I’ll be right there.” His head tilted with a flirtatious wink. 

Letting out a breathy laugh, you stirred creamer into your mug then sauntered back toward the bedroom. “You wish. Better bring my breakfast with you, flyboy.”

——-

_“Dad, do you think I’ll ever get to fly?” Poe looked up at his father with dark eyes, round as marbles._

_A warm smile spread across Kes’s face, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he folded his napkin and watched his son from across the diner booth._  
“Yeah, I think so. Stay focused and commit yourself. You’re a smart kid, and I know you’ll do us proud no matter what.”  


_Poe tapped the edge of the crust with his spoon, testing its flakiness against his Aunt Leia’s. Leia was more than an Aunt, in fact, she acted as caregiver while Kes was in Bosnia. The crust didn’t immediately splinter, the sign of a lower quality overall, but he wasn’t one to turn down a peach cobbler a la mode.  
_

_“How do ya know?”  
_

_“What, that your mom will be proud?” Kes asked, dipping into a melted pool of vanilla ice cream around the base of the plate. “She raised you. She’s still with you, every day.”  
_

_“Yeah,” Poe said, avoiding his dad’s eyes. He’d heard that platitude many times already, from teachers and all the well-meaning adults in his life. At least it was a step up from the ‘she’s in a better place’ line.  
_

_“I see you’ve been using that old telescope a lot lately.”  
_

_Crossing his feet over one another under the booth, Poe drew a breath in. “Sometimes I feel like if I get closer, I’ll be able to feel her more. Like she’s not gone.”  
_

_Kes paused. It had been rough since Shara died, especially when he was deployed. He could barely tear himself away when it was time to leave, because although Poe had his aunt, he needed a parent too. “I know what you mean. I still feel like she’s gonna come home in that raggedy flight suit sometimes.”_

_“Yeah. Kinda like that. It’s like- I want to be where she was. Above the clouds.”  
_

_“She’s not up there,” Kes answered softly. He pointed to Poe’s chest, skinny with youth. “She’s in there. No one’s ever really gone.”_

———

Poe drew another sip from the mug, then held it up in inspection. With a substantial earthen handle, the squat round shape had a wash of glaze the color of a fiery sunset, all oranges and pinks that shifted as soon as you tried to name them. “I can’t believe you made this. You’re really getting—“

“Why are you avoiding the question?”

“Hmmm?”

Each concern was met with an evasive maneuver. Tilting your chin down, your eyes bore into your husband. He might’ve been impressed by the ceramics you made, but that was no excuse. 

“It’s just a burn. It’s been a while since I’ve cooked. And I wasn’t exactly great at it to begin with.”

Silent, you remained motionless as Poe gave an uncomfortable grin and finally looked down at his toast. Straightening yourself higher on the bed under the tray, you reached out to examine his hand. A bandage crossed over the outer edge, nearly from his wrist on through his little finger. Red, seething hot. Poe had attempted to take care of it himself, but didn’t do much to cover it. The band-aids were peeling off around the edges already. A set of fresh, pink scars you didn’t recognize sat on his knuckles. Moving the tray to the bedside table, you stood to take him to the bathroom. 

“Let me fix this, okay?”

There it was: Pity. He noted it in your eyes the moment your mouth fell open at the mess he’d made of his right hand. If your brows curved like an archer’s bow at a little burn, what would happen when you learned about the epilepsy? 

Poe seemed off, like a haze settled over him since he made jokes with you in the kitchen. The carefree attitude he usually had seemed changed, drawing an emotion out of you that you struggled to pinpoint. Scratching at the dark beard decorating the lower half of his face, Poe grimaced as he leaned against the sink. At least the cool water gave him some relief.

“I’m so glad you guys are home. I can just imagine Jyn’s face when Cass got back.”

“I’m the only one home.”

A breath pulled from your lungs to the depth of your stomach, like an anchor. 

“I… there was something that happened.”

Snapping up from your crouched position as you looked for medical tape, you searching Poe’s face, desperate for a clue. His expression was cloudy, forehead creased and eyes down-turned like a storm about to rip the sky in half. 

“There was a dogfight. I made a mistake.”

“Is everyone—” you ventured carefully, a pad of gauze in your palm. 

“Oh yeah. Yeah, everyone in the squadron made it. I lost control and got into a pretty nasty spin. Messed up my neck some- going to physical therapy for it- and hit my cranium pretty hard.”

The image was painful, Poe’s F-16 taking on a mind of its own as he was strapped helplessly inside. Focusing on taking care of him in the present, you laid the gauze across the raw stripe of angry flesh, stretching medical tape across to anchor it. 

“I’m. I’m not flying.”

First you nodded, then froze as you were struck with the meaning. You pulled back, searching his misted eyes for a translation. “Babe, I…I know I have no idea what it was like over there—“

“I just can’t. It’s over.”

Running your fingers over the veins in his forearms, your forehead puckered. “Don’t you have like 9 years left on your commitment?”

Poe stood, pushing your hands off him. Turning away, he sucked his teeth and stared at the bathroom ceiling. “What do you wanna do today? I could really go for some sushi, let’s head into—“

“Poe.”

“Okay, it’s not much of a novelty anymore. I get that. Pizza?”

“ _Poe_.” Pulling him close, you squeezed his hands, brushing against the thin layer of woven cotton protecting the fresh injury. 

“They’re not letting me, okay,” he spat without making eye contact. “I fucked up! I fucked up and now I’m—“

“It’ll be okay, we’ll just…”

“It’s not okay. This isn’t okay—“

The gap between his words could have contained an entire lifetime. Knowing the expression he’d find within your eyes would shatter him, he refused to look. Struggling to understand, you clamped around his hand, temporarily forgetting about the burn. Poe winced and finally met your eyes, swimming with concern and confusion. 

“—I had a seizure.”

A deep cleft formed between your brows as you gazed at your husband. Drawing in a deep inhale, the word he just spoke obviously caused more pain than the minor burn from the stove. “But…”

“Just now. When I was cooking. Absence seizures- I’m just out for a minute.” His free hand ran through his hair as he continued. “That’s how I got burned. That’s… why I’m home and the rest of them aren’t.”

Gulping down a mouthful of stale saliva, you just wanted to comfort Poe. Since he’d been home, there was an aching need to ensconce him against your skin like always. Each reunion came with a sort of honeymoon period of increased affection, and you figured it was just a heightened version of the usual, given the danger of the place he was returning from and how long he was deployed. 

Now you could pinpoint it. Protection. You wanted to protect him. It wasn’t because you saw him as weak, it was because you loved him just as fiercely as he loved you. “Babe, when did this start?”

“I don’t know, little while after I hit my head. I’m. I’m broken.”

The reality of it all hit Poe again as he watched your response, and he was overcome. Guilt for leaving his squadron behind amidst a war, for the mistake that brought him back home to you. He didn’t want to come home like this. Slumping back against the wall, his chest began to shake with a silent cry as he slid down to rest his elbows on his knees on the tile floor. 

“No… Why would you say that? You’re not. You’re not,” you assured, dropping onto the cold tile next to him. Heart shattering, you wrapped your arms around him as he trembled. Silent and dry, not a wet sob. The cry rattled though him. 

“What am I if not a pilot? What the fuck am I supposed to be?”

“Just be here with me.” Running your hands through a lock of curly hair at Poe’s scalp, you bit back tears of your own. One kiss, between his cheekbone and temple. Another, lower, along the edge of his beard. One more, his quivering bottom lip. Tenderly you brought your hands to cup his neck, thumbs resting in the soft patch of skin just under his earlobes. 

He belonged in the cockpit, not on the ground. For his entire life, Poe wanted to follow in his mother’s steps. The desire became borderline obsessive for a while, as he fought for a place in the initial flight training before he met you. All he wanted was to serve, from the sky. Even when if it was ugly, it was an honor. For his family, for his country he served. He didn’t deserve to have those wings clipped.

“I’m nothing without this…” he stammered. 

“You’re my everything.”

“You’re _my_ everything,” Poe repeated back, throat catching emotion like a foreign object in a garbage disposal.

In a flash, he lunged at you, fingers lacing with yours as he pulled your arms to rest overhead. Poe’s mouth was hungry, pressing against yours urgently. The bathroom floor was hard against the bare skin of your legs, unforgiving, the light harsh and fluorescent. His beard was softer than it looked, a sensation you were still getting used to as he made his way down to your neck. He began to mumble something unintelligible against the tender skin before you could gather your thoughts.

“Wait—“

“Corazón,” he appealed, voice cracking on the last syllable of the pet name. He wanted communion, to lose himself within you where this didn’t matter. Poe wanted to stay in the moment, not to think about the implications of the future. There was a space between a gasp and a panted breath that didn’t require thought, a space familiar and safe. 

“Poe, babe, wait—“ you protested in a whisper as his hips began to grind you into the floor softly.

As much as you wanted to give him what he needed, it wasn’t right to continue replacing tears with moans. He needed to face this, even more than he needed comfort. Physical touch had always been a medium of communication for Poe. With friends and colleagues, he was a hugger, a patter of backs and a squeezer of hands. He would take your foot into his hands as you watched movies on the couch, absentmindedly rolling his knuckles over the tired sole in a wordless gesture of love. Because of that, you wondered how well he’d been coping since his injury, without touch or talk. 

Metallic, like there was a shiny nickel resting on the center of his tongue.  
Blurry, like the vignette edges of an old photograph.

Your husband’s hips paused, and he sunk his still mouth against your neck. B.B. entered the bathroom, his small paw resting on Poe’s forearm as the curious dog sniffed at your faces. He didn’t respond other than a shallow breath that curled around your ear.

“Poe? _Poe_.”

When he was a kid, he loved the feeling of stepping off a carnival ride with wobbly feet and a mind that seemed to continue spinning after the ride was long finished. Recovering from a seizure was like that, without the inclusion of the adrenaline that made him feel giddy despite throwing up a wad of cotton candy behind the midway. 

Gradually Poe lifted his head from your shoulders, coming back to the present moment. He dotted slow kisses along your neck, each containing a unique, subtle meaning: __  
Never let me go  
I want to be good enough again  
Please help me figure out who I am now 

When you pulled back, his chestnut eyes were flooded with tears that wouldn’t fall. There was a distance to them, although he was trying to be here with you. The return trip was always difficult, it was the slipping away that was easy. Poe wondered exactly where he would go during a Petit Mal, some kind of purgatory between conscious and unconscious. 

“Please. I need to know what happened.”

Rocking back onto his knees between your legs, Poe shifted to sit on his feet and rubbed his hand across his mouth and jaw. He realized B.B. was there, and scratched under the dog’s scruffy white chin.

As you saw him greet B.B., who had been in the bathroom for at least a full minute already and who had actually touched him, it dawned on you that Poe had just had one, right on top of you. Quiet, non-dramatic. You knew that not every seizure was a harrowing, convulsive scene of tongue-biting and thrashing, but somehow it still surprised you that the electrical storm in your husband’s mind could be so still and understated from the outside. 

How could he explain it all? It still felt like fiction, as if he was suddenly thrust into the plot of a Hitchcock film, forced to cut his career short after a sudden mistake while the world spun down around him. He fell from unfathomable heights in his dreams, when he could sleep at all. This was Vertigo, not the life of a fighter pilot. 

His voice was fuzzy, with the slightly slower cadence he got when he would drink too much. “Fuck… Why is life…”

“I’m right here. Just start at the beginning.”

——

His aeronautical badge rested next to the photo of him and his mother Shara in the hangar when he was young. Silver, a set of wings flanking a striped shield represented what Poe had worked his whole life for, and it belonged on his chest, not on a shelf. The first time the glint caught your eye, it wrenched your stomach to see the two items paired together, like a sacred offering on an altar. 

Saw Palmettos and the incessant scream of cicadas on hot nights crept into Poe’s mind. He missed the simplicity of things before he was ordered to the 44th squadron. He missed home, although he wasn’t sure if he defined ‘home’ as being in Florida surrounded by friends or in Georgia where he was raised. Poe felt small now, stripped of his ambitions, and was reaching toward nostalgia.

Even though you’d vehemently deny it, you looked at him differently. Observing him to try and decode the misfiring in his brain, you tried to read on his face when he was slipping into one. Every time he would pause thoughtfully or become engrossed in something- reading on his phone, listening to a song- you couldn’t help but wonder if he was there, fully there. It hurt, moments of his life chipped away.

The article said that most patients with a traumatic brain injury didn’t have seizures for longer than three months after their accident. Poe was four weeks out. Poring over information online, the analytical side of you offered a strange comfort as you attempted to find some hope for him to cling to. The statistics weren’t bad, 20% possibility of continuing seizures past the first two years. Even though he was having multiple seizures a day, his doctors didn’t consider his injury severe because he was able to regain consciousness and land the F-16, even if he barely remembered it.

Poe was done talking about it for now, but pushed himself through another conversation for your sake. He’d been given the talk about the Temporary Disability Retirement List and how, if he was discharged, he’d be reevaluated periodically. For now, he was waiting to be seen by the neurologist at Kadena and had some physical therapy lined up for his neck. He took his medication, rested. Not much else to be done. 

“So, that’s good news.”

“Yeah,” he responded, half-hearted. Poe’s thumb rubbed circles into your thigh as you sat draped over him on the couch. You caught glimpsed of him when he wasn’t looking. Handsome, melancholy, but still undeniably himself. 

“Even if they continue, you’ll probably be able to go back to work. Says here you’d be limited to domestic stations only. So I could get back into the lab, with any luck.”

Neither one of you had been really paying attention to the movie, each lost in a private train of thought. Poe stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth, murmuring to acknowledge you before swallowing it down. 

One person in his life understood Poe’s pain more than he realized. You. The possibility of working in a drug development lab was thrown out the window when you moved to Okinawa. After years of working toward your degree, it blindsided you to have that pulled away due to Poe’s assignment. While the obstacle was circumstance and not injury, it mirrored your own frustration.

Past the initial conversation, Poe hadn’t elaborated much. He relayed the most basic of details of the dogfight, told you about the kind nurse who kept him sane, described the aura he’d get just before he temporarily checked out. He didn’t share the image of your outstretched fingers and horrified face, a sight that haunted his falling nightmares. Blinking lights across the control panel, the green of night vision. Gravity pulling his body toward the Red Sea. Blips of fear that didn’t quite explain how he had survived the compressor stall. He must’ve been on raw instinct or muscle memory honed from sheer repetition from his time training, because his conscious mind didn’t have an answer for that. 

You wanted to tell him that it was okay to be depressed and angry about having that passion ripped from his hands soon after finally achieved that distant goal. That you accepted him, fully. If he could just listen. 

“I wanna go home.”

“What?” Turning this time, the glow of the television revealed a slight look of confusion on Poe’s face.

“I wanna take you home,” you clarified. 

Poe needed support: Aunt Leia, Finn, whoever. Someone who cared about him like you did, a team in his corner. In Kadena, he was alone now save for you, and would be re-assigned if the Air Force kept him, anyway. Perhaps if he’d muster some of that famous Dameron charm, he could convince someone to pull some strings to get stationed in the South. 

“To… Valdosta?”

“Or Tampa. Wherever I can find work. What do you think?”

Reaching across your lap to rest his forehead against yours, Poe nodded gently. “Yeah, Corazón. I’d like that.”


	28. To Mend With Gold - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You believe some things need to be taken apart completely before they can be put back together; Poe tries to keep an open mind.

Poe was dejected, feet dragging in his favorite scuffed civilian boots. His life had been upended suddenly, like a nearly-finished puzzle thrown from a tabletop and scattered back into a pile of seemingly random pieces.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you quietly walked out of the neurologist’s office. The appointment had been encouraging, the doctor hopeful. There wasn’t a way to know for certain how many he was experiencing each day, but Poe’s seizures had become less frequent- but one wouldn’t guess that from his response.

In the ten minutes of hand-wringing and furtive eyes that darted away from the neurologist’s face to focus on medical diagrams on the wall, Poe gave concise answers to the questions, and you filled in the details. Epilepsy was affecting him on every level, especially frustrating because he didn’t _feel_ sick- just distanced, like he was behind a pane of frosted glass before and after the seizure, with a blind spot somewhere in between.

Turning the ignition in the small hatchback, your mind returned to the pottery studio. While your latest project was coming along nicely, what stayed with you was a very special piece Baze showed you from their personal collection a few days earlier.

Kintsugi. The closest English translation Baze could offer was ‘to mend with gold.’

Gilded rivers etched irregular paths along the antique vase, in stunning contrast to the earthen texture of the clay. Kintsugi was the practice of repairing broken pottery with a lacquer enriched with gold, to signify how pain and setbacks can ultimately enrich and bring beauty to our lives. Scars were viewed as a story, a point of value and not a flaw. The gold becomes an integral part of the piece, after being considered all but lost. When Baze said that, you thought of Poe. He’d been losing hope, unable to see himself through the circumstances that shattered him.

“Pfffft, not even allowed to drive. Just castrate me already.”

Seeing him flounder as he tried to cope with his injury brought into focus how harmful some ideas could be, particularly as it came to disability at odds with feeling useful as a man. Poe didn’t measure others against what they were realistically incapable of, so it was a shame to see him experience this against himself. Shifting into gear as you headed home, you felt a pang of empathy. “It’s safer for now, at least until we get these seizures controlled. You’re still the guy I love- that’s not going to change.”

“I don’t feel masculine.”

“You don’t have to be what the world defines that as, the sometimes bullshit idea the service has of masculinity.”

“I—“ Poe’s eyes pinch shut as his thought was interrupted by your hand against the denim on his thigh. It was meant to be comforting, but because you were watching the road, your fingers strayed higher than intended. “What was that about… service?”

Glossing over his words was sexuality so clearly heard that you didn’t have to look to know the expression on his face. Poe had been home from Yemen for a couple weeks and still felt starved for your touch, that immediate need for carnal affection not yet dulled by time. He jokingly referred to the surge in libido as the hero’s welcome.

Gaze fixed ahead, your eyes didn’t leave the landscape stretching past the windshield. Obviously he was seeking an outlet for the feelings the appointment conjured up. Poe always had a physical way of dealing with strong emotions: a long ride on his dad’s old Ducati, a run, the occasional punch of an inanimate object if he was especially indignant. Sex would be a safer alternative, given the situation- and that was fine by you. “Well, just I think there’s a certain kind of satisfaction to be had when you let expectations drop away and just… do what feels good.”

Poe’s pulse quickened with your receptivity. “What did you have in mind?”

“None of that Alpha Male thing you like so much, for starters.”

“I only like it in the bedroom. And don’t even try to tell me you’re not into it.”

“Oh, I know I am. And honestly, we wouldn’t be together if you were like that in the real world.” Gripping the wheel, you explained, “It’s just that, it’ll do you good to let go of some control.”

This wouldn’t be about humiliation. On the contrary, you hoped to show Poe he could yield control while still being fulfilled. Maybe this was a way to help him warm up to the idea that he didn’t have to match the vision he had of himself to be worthy. He always saw other people’s humanity and value, but right now he seemed to be having trouble locating his own. You wanted to repair his broken pieces with gold.

”Control?” Poe asked, quirking an eyebrow, “Now, you’re not gonna chain me up and beat me, are you? ‘Cause that’s just not my thing.”

Mouth curling up in a lopsided grin, you shot Poe a wicked look, “Depends on how well you follow orders.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing in that uniform, just lookin’ pretty?”

———

Wide with that sad puppy-dog look he saved just for you, his eyes followed your panties as they hit the floor. The shower hissed on, the frosted door kept ajar. Poe sat on a dining chair in the cramped bathroom, facing the shower, fully clothed. He knew what you were doing, and the memories of the last time this happened incited thoughts of debasing you again under the fall of hot water. On the counter was the set of handcuffs he got as a surprise for your birthday last year, and a blindfold that, as of yet, hadn’t been used. Incentive to follow the rules. Punishment. As soon as he saw them he was filled with skepticism. He trusted you, and you’d discussed expectations ahead of time, but what had he gotten himself into?

The rules were simple: Poe wasn’t allowed to touch. He moved when you said he could. He talked only when permitted. He did what you told him to.

Back against the cool tile wall, you brought the shower head across your breasts and down your stomach. As you worked up a soapy lather across your breasts, Poe’s breath deepened, but you pretended like he wasn’t there.

Hands behind his back. Watching. Breathing.

Poe was used to being in charge, in life and in the bedroom. It wasn’t machismo, it lacked the arrogance. The seemingly effortless cool he exuded had nothing to do with putting down anyone else. Having a Cuban widower father in the Special Forces and being surrounded by Airmen his entire life had impressed certain expectations into his psyche. They weren’t obnoxious or disrespectful, just rigid. A man does this, a man does that. And Poe was inclined to agree, at least at a knee-jerk level, on most counts that didn’t invoke some kind of toxicity.

This was about stripping that away. Freeing him from it so he could be at peace with the mess life had thrown at him, if only for a little while. You wanted to cleanse him through filth.

Moving the shower head lower, you aimed the pulsing spray of water between your legs, mouth gaping open from the sensation. Moaning softly as your clit vibrated under the stream, you kept your eyes closed to appeal to Poe’s inner voyeur. Domes of liquid cooled on your bare breasts and thighs, and Poe watched goose bumps rise across the damp skin.

“ _Mmmmm_ … Show me how, Amor.”

Springing open, your eyes locked with Poe’s. Slowly you brought the spray over your tightened nipples, sending a cascade of soap bubbles dissipating across your skin. Now lower. Lower. He licked his lips, anticipating the show. Loving the build-up.

“Aackkk!”

He brought his hands to his face instinctively, protecting himself from the spray of water you directed at his face suddenly. Droplets clung to his hair and beard as he looked at you with a mix of bewilderment and annoyance.

“You’d think a military man would be better at taking orders. Do it again and it’ll be cold water.”

Poe wasn’t sure if he was turned on or not anymore. He reached for the towel hanging on the wall but retreated when you glared. A stream of water made its way down his throat and disappeared under the collar of his shirt.

“No. Hands behind your back,” you directed coolly, parting your legs to reveal the inner folds darkened with arousal. “Watch me.”

Again, you brought the water over your most sensitive spot, legs bent and splayed to keep Poe hard as you leaned back against the tile. Switching the toggle to a more driving pace, you groaned as it pulsed and tapped against your clit.

Yes, he was definitely turned on. Thoughts swirled in his head about penetrating you everywhere, but tonight wasn’t about conquering or exploring your body. It was about submission. So he did as Poe was told. You made an agreement, and he was trying. His mouth still curled into a smirk, but he was trying.

Biting his lip at the way your nipples stood at attention as you rolled your head down, he met your eyes again as you slipped a finger into the soft entrance of your body. As the digit curled up and probed, Poe broke from the back of the chair, hands on his knees as he leaned forward. While he was gone, he thought a lot about you, alone in the shower reliving the morning he found a new way to get you off, perky tits glistening with water. His right hand slid up his leg, rubbing himself through his pants.

Again, a sharp spray of water assaulted his face, icy cold this time. Your eyes invited him in, but your rules refused him entry. A study in irony, of surprising contrasts.

“No touching.”

“Amor, I just love to watch…” he explained. Poe jerked his head to the side, shaking the water off his face, an incredulous smirk across his mouth this time. He was testing you. Typical.

“Should I blindfold you then? Or will you be good?”

The cold water didn’t deter his arousal. His cock twitched and he nodded. Be _good_. Never before had he been on the receiving end of this dynamic, it was always him spanking you or your mouth around him as he tugged your hair, or his rank of “Captain” whispered through your pouting lips. The blot of water on his t-shirt was growing cold and he still wasn’t allowed to dry himself.

“I know that mouth wants to get you in trouble…” you said, voice drenched in sex as you continued to work over your clit. Growing closer to orgasm, you backed off and twisted the faucet. You fully intended on taking advantage of your husband’s newfound subservience. You motioned to the towel, which he pulled off the rod before wrapping it around your shoulders. Shooting him a disapproving look, you clarified, “On your knees. Dry me off.”

Poe did as he was told. His mouth as about to run off again, until his face was eye level with your pelvis. Seductive eyes asked for a taste but you ignored him, as he continued to pat you dry with the plush towel. He stayed in a wet shirt, curly hair dotted with shimmering drops of water.

“Bedroom? I can’t wait to—“

“Kitchen. Bring the chair,” you ordered, looping a finger around the handcuffs as you followed him. After he scooted the chair back into its place, you locked Poe’s hands behind his back with the cold metal rings. Raising an eyebrow, his face was painted in confusion.

“On your knees. I know you like to watch,” you whispered in his ear, “so this time, if you talk back you’ll get blindfolded, too.”

Climbing onto the table, you stared Poe down as you spread your legs wide over the edge in front of him to display glistening wetness. Although you were the one in such a vulnerable position and he was fully dressed, it was Poe who felt uncomfortable. Your gaze felt invasive and his heart raced at the subtle sex in your voice and overt sex in your gestures.

“Hungry?”

Nodding, he breathed out with an amused smile then shook his head. This was some kinky shit and he didn’t realize you had it in you to be eaten out on the kitchen table, yet here it was about to happen. What a dirty little housewife fantasy you’d been harboring.

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Eager to please you immediately, Poe knew teasing would get him in trouble. As his mouth connected with the slick folds, your fingers knotted into his black waves to direct and encourage him. His hands were still bound, and his knees were spread at shoulder length to stabilize himself as his tongue went to work. Penetrating and massaging your swollen labia, he felt his cock harden again. Poe moaned against your clit, knowing if he could get you hot enough, he’d be allowed to fuck you. Everyone wins.

His mouth belonged to you, two full lips and an agile tongue crafted solely for your enjoyment. Poe was going to show you how he worshiped you with it, making you come hard right where you served dinner. Wide and slow, he curved his tongue like a scoop, cleaning you out as you writhed around him. Your juices dribbled out of the corner of his mouth as he alternated between sucking the tight bundle of nerves and lapping deep within.

“Poe,” you gasped. Looking down, you met his eyes, the need for more evident in them. “You’re being a very good boy.”

Something about the praise was wildly exciting to him: although the words were condescending, the tone wasn’t meant to humiliate him. It was approval that he was doing his job and he’d begun to understand the appeal in a way that went past the strictly physical. Poe chose to kneel for you because you were everything, worthy of worship and submission. You chose to dominate him because he was suffering and deserved freedom from all the expectations he put on himself.

Sexually, the dynamic was hot but what made it poignant was the position life had put him in, one where he was forced to revise his identity. If your recent sex life were to have a motto, it might be ‘when life fucks you over, fuck your wife harder’ but what made this special was knowing it was safe to be passive, completely and openly so.

Again, his tongue ran up the puffy and swollen tissue as your thighs shook around him, evidence of how turned on you were by the whole scenario. Your cocky husband, reduced to a prisoner between your parted legs, one who served his sentence with gusto as he pushed in and out, curling the tip of his tongue to reach as far back as possible before swirling it. Needy little guttural sounds and wet noises met your ears as Poe gave himself to you.

Dipping lower now, he pushed his tongue just under your slit, making your back arch. The intensity was different, yet pleasurable, so you settled your back down on the table and offered him access again. “More.”

Pulsating over the tight ring, Poe inched you closer and closer toward the edge. Darting his tongue in as you relaxed around him, he forced gasps and squeals from your lips. He’d penetrated you with his finger a little bit, but never his tongue. Taboo and deeply submissive, it felt right in the moment as he was restrained and eager to please. Breath ragged, pressure built under your navel as he drug his tongue along the rim, sending waves of pleasure straight through you. 

You needed him; you loved him, and felt fiercely protective of him. Poe Dameron was _yours_ absolutely, and it gave you a feeling of power to know that, to feel it physically. You owned him- and he was happy about it.

Sliding to the side, you came off the table and knelt next to Poe, giving him a warning as you unlocked the handcuffs. “Don’t touch me. Just take them off.”

No nod, no answer, his nostrils just flared with a deep, aroused inhale knowing he was finally going to get a little attention. He felt like he was going to burst through his jeans before he unbuttoned them, and his chin was still bathed in moisture he didn’t have anywhere to wipe.

Easing himself back onto the chair nude from the waist down, Poe still had a cold spray of water darkening his shirt. You pulled it overhead for him, balling it up to rub over the cool area of skin affected,then over his wet mouth and jaw. “For being so good now.”

Circling the chair, you brought Poe’s wrists together behind him but didn’t bind them this time, testing if he’d behave again. Reaching around his body from behind, you lightly traced fingertips upwards from the base up the veins on the shaft of his cock as he jumped.

“So excited…”

“Please touch me,” he pleaded.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Teasing him in wispy upstrokes only, Poe was becoming unraveled like a ball of yarn. Withholding the slow, downward grip that made him buck his hips into your hand was deliberate. Those were his favorite, with a slight twist along the shaft that always made his mouth gape in enjoyment. This time your touch was reserved, doled out in small portions as he fought to not clasp a fist over yours and pump his cock. Teeth grazed across the tan skin of his muscular shoulders, nipping and sucking at him in between maddeningly ghosted strokes.

After a few minutes, you walked to the face him in front of the chair, kneeling down between his spread legs again. One lick of the tip as you sustained eye contact, tasting the drop of precome there. Poe’s hands quivered in anticipation, a desire for your warm mouth to reward him for all his hard work and patience.

Stripped away was the ego, the prestige of being part of an elite fighter squadron. 

Stripped away was the intellect, his problem solving and sharp wit. 

Stripped away was the recklessness he was known to indulge in when his passions ran high.   
  
Stripped down in front of you was Poe, the man he was underneath. Someone you knew intimately, yet with whom he seemed unacquainted.

It was never about breaking him- fate had done enough of that already- this was about rebuilding him. He’d been taken apart and there was just one more thing he needed before he could feel whole again.

The heat from his skin mingled with your own as you finally straddled him, causing him to let out a brief, wispy laugh of relief. All this and there had been very little actual touching with hands or bodies, if you didn’t count him going down on you. His hands shot up to caress, but halted just before making contact over your ass. “May I touch you?”

“Not yet,” you smiled at his manners, such a giveaway for his Southern roots. He was learning, you could see a change in his eyes since it began. Sinking down over him slowly, you gripped his shoulders as the balls of your feet pressed into the floor for control, undulating your hips side to side the whole way down. Every inch of him, every detail was savored. He seeped into you slowly, like a drop of ink dispersing into clear water.

Poe moaned out your name, drawing the vowels out like a stretch of saltwater taffy. When he was completely ensheathed inside, you shivered as he stretched and filled you. Penetration itself could be an act of power, but the softness in Poe’s eyes told you he still yielded.

He remained still, waiting for you. Tracing down his face along his temple, you caressed his jaw and soft beard with a slow finger, forming invisible flourishes. How could he ever doubt his very masculinity, you wondered as he sat under and pierced within you. Poe waited, enjoying the squeeze of your pussy around him but desperately needing more. Kissing his ear, you whispered the order he’d been longing to hear, “Now. Fuck me.”

Making up for lost time, his palm gripped your ass urgently as the muscles of his legs tensed beneath you. You rode him, bouncing up and down with force to send him to a place of ecstasy. He deserved it. His thick cock belonged to you, meant for the lone purpose of your gratification. All of him sexually, offered up to you. The feeling of being stretched as he pushed into your tight wetness was mind-bending after all the teasing, and you loudly moaned to release the energy as he pounded in.

Transfixed, he pulled back to watch your face, bodies remaining fused. This didn’t have to make sense to anyone else, it made sense to you two. You were in sync. Poe needed someone else to be in charge for a change. Submission wasn’t weakness; it was a choice- and a surprisingly empowering one at that. This gave him something different, something dominating you didn’t, although you both enjoyed that too.

“How do you feel?”

“Good, Amor,” he let out a gasp as he filled you again, “Happy. Strong.”

“You are,” you answered, “You are.”

As the heat inside his body rose to a fever pitch, Poe rocked your hips to meet him halfway. Sweating, he drove into you again and again. Electrified hands kneaded your thighs and ass as they bounced atop his legs, enjoying every square inch of skin he was now allowed to touch. He owned you, too, and you loved it. You belonged to each other.

Pants and grunts passed through his lips as his brows snapped together, focusing on the ultimate reward of spontaneous release. He knew you were close, his cock was sliding in wet and creamy, effortless. Raw intensity in your eyes as you rode on the cusp of orgasm sent him over the edge, reduced to erratic thrusts and clawing fingertips.

“You’re allowed to come for me,” you reminded between sighs and groans.

Repeating your name through the distortion of bliss, Poe squeezed your chest against his as he released within. Poe’s thick brows contorted and knit together as you coaxed out every last drop of him. You had him, even his most primal self in the moment of climax, yet your body was still greedy. All of it, all of him emptied in a final act of submission.

Writhing and clenching, you finally succumbed to _him_ now. Everything felt heightened in pure sensual intoxication as energy pulsed through your bodies. Sharing a wavelength, incoherent thoughts and intensified, yet unnameable emotion. Despite the hoarseness of your throat, you breathed in sync. Hips slowing to a lazy grind, Poe traced along the nape of your neck. Foreheads leaning against each other, he met your gaze so closely it was hard to focus. Mahogany eyes met yours, awash in contentment.

Somehow, you instinctively knew what he needed when he was listless or hurting, and Poe marveled at the connection you shared. Sex was so different from his perspective this time, yet the physical was simple variations of things that had all happened before, save one act. Matched breaths gradually settled and regained a familiar pattern as you studied each other’s faces with tender vulnerability.

“Oh my God, that was…” He searched for words yet came up blank, deciding to abandon his thought as your head rested in the crook of his shoulder and his arms enveloped you.

“Babe? Will you carry me to bed?”

Kissing his cheek, you stood and he followed, lifting your body up with a sigh. He scooped you up with knees bent across his forearms and arms slung around his neck. Something was so comforting about the pose, even if it did uphold a certain stereotype about marriage and a husband’s role. The truth was, Poe was happy in the role. He wanted that, and was good at it, but now it was shifted and redefined.

Soft underneath you, the bed was a symbol of retreat in each other. A place to simply be together, nothing more. In his dreams, the scream of the AIM-120 above Midi still howled in his ear, but while he was awake this was a place he felt safe.

“You know what I was thinking of?”

Poe offered a questioning murmur, his eyes closed as he breathed in the scent of your hair. Leg slung across his torso, you soaked in the feeling of his skin like the last warming rays of clear autumn sunset.

“Kintsugi, remember I was telling you about it?”

“The pottery thing?”

“Yeah, it’s a tradition here. When a piece of pottery is cracked, it’s sometimes repaired with gold-laced lacquer.”

Squinting in intrigue, Poe brought his face close to yours. “What made you think of that?”

“You, babe.” Cupping his cheeks, you dropped a kiss on his forehead.   
  
“I’m a smashed pot?” He asked, curious and without defensiveness, running his fingers along the fine hair of your stomach. Flinching slightly at the tickle, your hand reached over his.   
  
“No, no… It’s about transformation and beauty. You’re beautiful, even your scars.”  
  
A thought flashed briefly in the depth of Poe’s eyes, and he held his hand over your stomach. Over the fuzzy little hair he was teasing, over the birthmark he loved, over your faint scar. The scar reminded you both of the transformation of grief and the beauty of love to guide you through to the other side.  
  
“And you? You deserve all those cracks to be filled with gold.” Tracing his finger over the scar like a Braille message, Poe felt an ache in his chest as he remembered the ectopic pregnancy. A daughter he’d never hold. “Especially this one.”

Despite everything- his heartbreak at the loss of his wings, the guilt of leaving his squadron, the uncertainly of his health- he still wanted a family. Trying to conceive on purpose this time had come up before he left for his deployment. After much thought, you answered yes, that you were ready. You even had your IUD removed, but the subject felt dramatically different when Poe was here with you. 

Oxygen suddenly dropped in supply, your lungs struggling to keep up with the chaotic mix of emotions. Poe was clinging to the vision of a perfect life, desperate for whatever piece of it he could receive. It was understandable, but you were unsure that would be a wise choice now. He was still on medical leave.

“Hey… you okay?”

Gulping down a pebble in your throat, you rested your head on Poe’s chest. ”Yeah babe, just exhausted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavily inspired by the “submissive Poe” headcanon by @daddyslittledefect on Tumblr, who gave her blessing. Thanks again!


	29. Winging It

_The life that I see is a life I’m ready to begin_  
_It took me a while, but now I welcome you in_  
 _With a word, I’ll put my devotion to the test_  
 _I’ll strap your love around me like a suicide vest._

Soft and sweet as a nectarine, Poe’s voice drifted through the apartment as he strummed his guitar. He stopped, furrowing his brow in concentration as he repeated the bridge, then seemed satisfied. “I wrote this so long ago, but since I didn’t have a guitar at Al Anad, I never got a chance to play it.”

“I love it. So romantic… in a dark way.”

“Well, I was in a dark place.” Poe didn’t look up when he offered this explanation, and focused on the frets instead. Hugging him, you breathed in his familiar scent of sandalwood and mentally thanked the universe for returning him home. The suicide vest reference wasn’t lost on you, with your husband spending 7 long months in the Middle East.

“So glad you’re home, babe. Thank you for the song, I’ve really missed hearing you play.”

“I missed everything.” B.B. jumped up into the couch between you, and you gave the feisty terrier a quick scratch on his chest. Nosing his way into Poe’s lap, B.B. squeezed between his torso and the black guitar. Laughing, he pet him and looked down with an irresistible, lopsided smile. “Including you, buddy.”

“So, about tonight?”

“Ahhh, yes. I owe you a date. I was thinking we could just wing it, if that’s alright with you?”

———

The bowl drooped to one side of the pottery  wheel, an uneven thickness around the lip. Stifling a giggle, you brought a clay-speckled hand over your mouth. “It’s… cute.”

“Not really, looks like a Jeep ran over it,” Poe mused, cocking his head to the side as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“Sometimes you’re a little dramatic.”

“Me? Never,” he replied with a straight face, wiping smears of sand-colored clay his hands off on the work apron.

Chirruit made his way to the back row of wheels, where you and Poe were, and clicked his tongue, “Sounds like we have a trouble maker back here.”

Shooting a look at Poe first, you turned to your friend and mentor, “You have no idea, Cheer.”

While he was clearly amused with the chemistry you shared, the master ceramicist had to admit you were becoming disruptive to the rest of the class. Beginner students were arranged in rows facing the wheels in the front where Baze and Chirruit would demonstrate, all serious about their craft. And then there was Poe. Giggling and making off-color jokes from the back of the studio, like a third grade class clown.

“Babe, you have to let them concentrate,” you whispered, leaning back into Poe’s shoulder as he tried to rework the malleable clay. “Here, can I show you a trick?”

Deftly, you carved out a symmetrical concave, smooth and wide as the wheel turned. “See? Try starting from this point.”

Poe couldn’t help but admire the way the space between your brows crunched in focus as you took raw material in your hands and transformed it into something that actually looked like art. It was hard work but you were in your element. He remembered that feeling, and missed it. It was his first time in Baze and Chirruit’s shop as a student, albeit strictly as a date night and not as a serious learner. They were kind enough to let him in the class as a favor to you because mentioned how it was a shame Poe had never actually seen you throw pottery. He was in Yemen when your skill started to flourish, and now that you were leaving Okinawa, they wanted to give him an opportunity to see how far you’d come.

“So, this is applied to bisque?“ you asked.

“Yes, beautifully. Silicia helps it melt right in, kind of unique for an under glaze,” Baze explained holding up a bottle.

“Greenware too, you said? Cool.”

Poe’s eyes darted between you and the ponytailed man. “You guys are speaking another language altogether, now.”

Turning to your husband, you smirked. “How do you think I feel surrounded by pilots who speak in acronyms half the time and in Zoomie jargon the other half?”

His mouth contorted in an awkward smile; you had a point. Poe had grown up in the Air Force, it came as second nature to him to speak in militaristic code and slang. Gonk and piddle packs coming up in conversation wasn’t unusual for him and he had to remember to fill you in on the more colorful terms.

Embracing Baze and Chirruit each in a warm hug, you thanked them at the end of class. They’d not only helped you ground yourself through art when you were struggling with loneliness and sense of place, but they also offered genuine friendship during that time. For that, you’d always be grateful.

———

“In three, two, one…”

Determined eyes locked with yours in a race, one he was sure to win. Grinning as he held up a spoon, Poe nodded when you set the timer on your phone for five minutes. Go.

An artful arrangement of soft-boiled egg, pork belly and cabbage lay atop of bed of thin noodles in front of you. You tore into it, shoveling the food into your mouth in a playful competition.

Japan was a polite place, and although the natives of Okinawa were more than used to seeing the uncouth manners of Americans stationed there, you and Poe always tried to respect the culture while you were out. Interestingly enough, part of said culture involved the speed-eating of ramen at higher end restaurants. Your server actually told you to finish it within five minutes, lest the texture be ruined by overcooking in its own broth.

Poe slurped broth from his dish in the dimly-lit seat across from you, barely containing a smile between mouthfuls.

“You’ve got a—“ Reaching for a scallion stuck to his chin, your hand was swatted away.

“Stop cheating!”

“No, really. There’s a little—“ While you motioned to the little green oval on his face, Poe pushed your bowl away with one hand and grabbed a mushroom using chopsticks with the other. The bowl slid toward the end of the booth, a perfect cross-section of egg wobbling in the thick broth as it came to a rest.

“Hey! That’s not fair!” 

“They say all’s fair in love and war,” Poe shrugged.

Laughter burst out of you, feeling ridiculous in an elegant restaurant as the competitive spirit in each of you was channeled into a speed eating contest. Sure, the other patrons were noisily eating their food as well, as the usual custom for Japan, but they weren’t goofing off.

Pausing, Poe cocked his head and watched you try to regain your composure. It had been a long time since you’d laughed so hard together like this, probably since the visit to Tokyo for your birthday. A feeling of contentment ran through him, a sense of relief that he was home and your relationship was stable despite the whirlwind of deployment and injury and uncertainty for the future. Together, you still stood.

He was still going to beat you, though.

“Babe, you look like the part in Beauty and the Beast where he’s just going to town on that soup bowl,” you laughed.

“When you said we were going to a nice place, I assumed it was going to end in a more Lady and the Tramp moment. You and me locking lips over a long rice noodle or something- but you decided to take me somewhere they give you a time frame.”

“Serves me right. I know how competitive you can be.”

From the beginning of your relationship with Poe, a main source of flirting had revolved around little bets. Who can run to the car fastest, who can name all state capitals correctly, who was best at Jenga. Group hangouts with Rey and Finn as you were first getting to know him revealed his penchant for being the best, whether it was at the bowling game or the eventual flight program he’d attend.

On the night of your first solo date, you teased him about being a hipster because of his vinyl record recollection, including a lot of vintage releases he’d inherited from Kes. Poe bet that you wouldn’t be able to correctly guess who originally bought a record, he or his dad. If you could, you got to kiss the sexiest hipster in the restaurant, and if you couldn’t correctly guess, you had to kiss the ugliest.

The catch? The date wasn’t in a restaurant, it was in the living room of the duplex he shared with Finn, where you would move in only 8 months later when your lease was up. And you were the only two there.

“Remember our first date?” Poe leaned forward across the booth, his hands entered the circular spotlight on the tablecloth cast by the dim light overhead. As you met them with a squeeze, the stone in your solitaire twinkled.

“I remember you losing our little wager, you mustachioed hipster piece of shit.”

“Hey, hey, now!” Poe laughed, “That’s going entirely too far.”

Taking a swig of your Tsingtao, you revisited the memory. Soaked from a downpour and freezing in the Thai restaurant, you wore Poe’s shirt after taking the meal to go and bringing it back to his place to dry off. Never alone together before, the tension was palpable. Hair extra curly from a sudden downpour so ubiquitous to Florida summer, it tickled when you ran your fingers through it the first time you kissed. Poe made you feel excited and comfortable and terrified all at once. Somehow, he could still make you feel like that.

“I never had a mustache,” he corrected with a deadpan lift of his thick black eyebrows.

———

Letting out an exaggerated whistle as Poe sprinted toward the water, you turned your head from side to side to make sure the beach was still clear from any other people. It was- not that it would have stopped him had you not been alone. A murky blanket of indigo sky stretched overhead. It was clear but not ideal; the night was more crisp than you had anticipated, but once Poe had an idea in his head it was hard to shake. You had that in common.

“This water’s freezing, my balls are in my throat!”

“You’ll be fine,” you dismissed from the sand, tiptoeing around a knot of seaweed that had washed up.

“I’m gonna get pneumonia. How much longer?”

“Oh. I stopped checking,” you joked, unscrewing a water bottle whose contents had been replaced with a strong ratio of vodka to cranberry juice, half-emptied already.

“What?!”

Poe swam back to the shore, uncertain of how long he’d been in the water. Knowing it had been about one minute, you stayed quiet and decided to spare him the remaining four minutes of misery he’d agreed to. Popping the hatch in the back of the car, you grabbed him a towel and took another peek around the beach to make sure you were still alone.

“Shit…” he mumbled through rattling teeth as you met him at the water’s edge and covered him up. “Why did I do that?”

“Because you’ve never backed down from a dare in your life.”

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. “Well, it’s ultimately your fault. You don’t just dare me something you don’t want me to do. You know how stubborn I am.”

“Stubborn is a nice way of putting it. And for the record, I wouldn’t really make you stay in there long.” Your arms circled around him, and he lifted you up, shuffling to the car awkwardly as you giggled. The back seat was dropped down to create a small space under the open hatch, and he ducked in for some relief from the sea breeze was causing his skin to stay bumpy even though it was now dry.

Lying down in the back of the car, you pulled Poe close for a kiss before he got his clothes back on. Between the buzz of the vodka and the playfulness of the date, you found yourself staring at your husband with more than a little excitement when he undressed fully.

“I think I lost a couple inches back there in the water. Wanna check?”

“Want me to warm you up?” His skin was cool to the touch as you kissed. Despite only being in the water a few moments, he had the distinct ocean scent of salt on him. Your tongues met, timidly at first then with growing urgency. As he captured your bottom lip between his teeth, you reached under the towel with impatient hands, drawing along the contour of his hipbone.

“So, a dare then? It _is_ your turn,” Poe reminded you with a small smile.

“Truth, actually.”

“Are we trying?”

The immediacy of Poe’s question surprised you. No pause, he’d been thinking about asking it. Realizing this was the reason he suggested a game of Truth or Dare, your hand darted away. “Why do you do that?”

“Huh- Do what?”

“That. Bring up kids when things are going well. You do that.”

Leaning back on his forearm, Poe looked at you with a creased brow. “I thought we were about to… I didn’t think it was a problem. Didn’t we talk about this?” He pulled away, as if it was suddenly necessary to find his pants across the front seat before you answered. Silently watching, you kicked yourself as he stepped into them and clumsily fought with his belt. He was drunk.

“I see. Now you don’t—“ Poe’s voice faltered as he tried to regain composure, “Because of me. Is that it?”

“No, babe! That’s not—“

“What, then? Supposedly you wanted to and were all excited but now you can’t even say it. Just be honest.”

Picking at your cuticles, your gaze slid away from Poe out to the dunes of sand next to the car. You didn’t want to hurt him, and you didn’t want to reinforce the idea that he was somehow defective now because of his injury. You were just as concerned for his health as your own, if this was to actually happen. Conflicting thoughts stewed within as you struggled to find something to say, and you desperately wanted to finish the vodka you’d been passing back and forth since parking.

“Why did you ask me?” you asked quietly.

Poe sat back down in the space under the hatch, drawing a sand-covered foot up. In front of his bleary eyes was a panoramic view of the stars above the Sea of Japan, which he stared at blankly. “I just wanted to know if we’re like _trying_ trying or like ‘we’ll see what happens’ trying.”

“I don’t know.”

“About that question or my other one?”

Sea oats caught the breeze, rattling nearby as the dried ends wavered against each other. Since Poe had been home, you’d been stuck together like a set of desperate magnets, without any birth control. It was fine until last time, when he brought up the baby. Too much, too painful. You could talk about the possibility of another, but didn’t want to think about her.

Betrayal filled Poe’s eyes and he turned away, feeling like the thick silence would smother him. Hand skimming across the worn leather jacket on his shoulders, you pulled him back. You didn’t know what you were going to say, and the alcohol was likely to impact your eloquence, but he deserved to know what was happening in your head.

“Yeah. I want everything. I want the onesies and the lullabies and a kid who has the same brown eyes as you.”

His jaw stayed clenched and he zipped the front of his hoodie up to shield from the sea breeze, “Do you?”

**

_“Mrs. Dameron, do you have any questions for the pharmacist?”_

_Buried at the bottom of the bag, under the Valproate for Poe’s seizures, a white and blue box represented all the conflict in your heart. It was something you tried to hide, in an attempt to buy yourself some more time after Poe brought up the baby girl you lost. Experiencing that again would be a nightmare, and although he would be there, it would be your body to bear the worst of it._

_Hesitating at the counter, you ran your keys back and forth in your hand. If you were to conceive, you’d accept it. But the Plan B wasn’t to extinguish anything, it was to prevent any of that in the first place._

_It felt like a betrayal, heavy and dark. Poe wanted this; you wanted this. So why were you so terrified?_

” _Actually, can I pay for this one in cash, please?_ ”

**

“I’m scared,” you admitted, “I don’t want to lose another one.”

“Nobody wants that. If you don’t want to do this—“

“I do! All of it, whatever. The two am feedings and never ending nasty diaper blowouts. That’s not the problem,” you said with a single breathy laugh, taking another swing of the vodka before you continued. “But I also want you to be well. And I don’t know where we’ll be living soon. And—“

Kissing you again, sweetly this time, Poe reached his hands into your hair. In his intoxication, his lip slid against yours in a way that tickled slightly. He wanted it all, too. Compromise wasn’t really a part of his life, and he only found use for it with you.

“It’s okay,” he whispered against your mouth. “I’m freaking out a little, too. It doesn’t have to be now.”

“I know there’s never going to be an ideal time, but I just…” Your body, pressed into his, warmth spreading through your clothed chest. “Should we just say fuck it and try? Is that irresponsible?”

“You know what I think. But it’s up to you. I need you to be honest with me.”

Nodding, your hand gripped the hoodie around the side of his ribs, twisting around the fabric. “Just don’t make me talk about her. I can’t. It’s like a part of me is missing.”

Drenched in tears, Poe’s eyes met yours, “Amor, you’re not alone. I lost her too, and my biggest regret is not being with you after it happened.”

“I know. I’m not angry about that.” After the surgery, Poe had to leave almost immediately to return to the Undergraduate Pilot Training. You’d lost a Fallopian tube and a lot of blood, the doctors unable to perform the surgery laparoscopically. Healing physically was hard enough, but the mental was harder given that Poe was halfway across the country in Oklahoma.

“Corazón, I believe in us. If that’s what you want, we can make it work.“ Resourceful and stubborn, Poe could usually figure out how to do things his way. His hands gripped around you, as if you were about to yield to the wind and be swept into the crashing waves in the distance. “Like you said, sometimes we have to give up control. We can’t control everything in life, sometimes you have to wing it.”

A thousand emotions coursed through your mind, sloshing around in a potent cocktail of vodka and heartache and grand dreams. Pulling Poe’s belt through his pant loops and snapping it to the floor of the small hatchback, you finally answered. “You’re right, sometimes we have to just wing it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is “Devotion” by Oscar Isaac/Nightlab but I can’t find video of it. If you can, I will be forever in your debt.


	30. Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to Georgia helps Poe reconnect with his family roots. Canon Poe is a country boy at heart and you best believe Air Force!Poe is too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opens with a _little_ light, plot-relevant steaminess but not a smut chapter.

Quiet, save for the faint twitter of birds. Congregating around the feeder right outside the window as the morning light spread, their songs raised in a pleasant volume. Planks of hardwood floor creaked under Poe’s bare feet as he struggled to maintain his composure, and he was painfully aware of each sound. Early morning in Leia’s guest room- the room he’d spent so much time in as a boy- wasn’t an ideal settting for this, but you couldn’t be sure when you’d have time alone.

Your fingers skimmed over his face, enjoying the texture of his skin again since he shaved his beard off. It gave him an undeniably sexy ruggedness, but you were grateful to see him looking like himself again. He grinned, catching you admiring him again before he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

On the dresser, a set of candles wobbled and a couple framed photos had already been knocked face-down when Poe lifted you up onto it. He moved the lamp to the floor so it wouldn’t be at risk of breaking before he raised your nightgown and slipped his sleeping pants around his ankles. As he pushed, he steadied himself against the wall. Wrapping your bare legs around him, you locked him in close as he shivered against the crisp air.

Craning your neck back, you gripped the edge of the dresser and hooked a knee behind Poe’s thigh as he stood in between your legs. Licking at your exposed throat as you moaned, he quickly clamped a hand over your mouth. Hissing in your ear as your teeth sunk into his calloused palm, his hips worked in a deep, circular motion. As soon as his fingers slid away, whispers of praise spilled out. “Oh, give it to me! I need it.”

Another thrust and you couldn’t help but moan again as Poe gripped your thigh, losing himself in arousal as he practically growled out a response.

“So nice and wet for- _Ha_ \- _**HAN?!** ”_

Poe jerked back in shock, unsure of what to do with his body. As he slid out from between your legs, an involuntary erotic whine was pulled from your lips, eyes still closed. Poe turned bright red, hands instinctively reaching for your nightgown, yanking it back over your hips and thighs. When your eyes sprung open, you were face to face with an older man, a look of amusement across his scruffy jaw as a hand slapped over his eyes. Legs snapping closed, you let out a yelp of surprise.

“WHOA! Sorry, I was just—“

“Get out!” Poe finally yelled, pushing him out of the room as the man let out a chuckle. The door slammed and Poe looked at you, eyes round with embarrassment and disbelief as he pulled his pajama pants up.

“Who was that?!”

“That’s my uncle…” Poe shook his head. He felt like a teenager busted for sneaking a girl in through his bedroom window all over again, the heat of humiliation spread through his stomach as he tried to catch his breath. And did Han hear that dirty talk? It was whispered, although not exactly quietly.

“I thought Leia lived alo—“

“Yeah. Surprise to me to.” A series of bangs on the door caused Poe to startle again. “They’re not even married anymore.”

“Finished? I just need a towel and they’re in the closet there,” Han called through the closed door of the guest room.

“How much did he hear?!” you asked Poe in a low voice, hopping off the dresser, “Oh God, how much did he see?”

“He heard it all. He saw it all. You need to learn how locks work,” Han called through the thin door, a smile audible in his tone. “By the way… nice ass, Poe. Been doing squats?”

With a look of dread on his face, Poe opened the closet and searched it for a moment before fishing out a stack of fresh towels. Knowing he would be met with a smug look from his uncle Han, he hesitated before opening the door. Once he heard footsteps down the hall, he gingerly opened it.

Maybe, he thought, Han will keep this to himself. Letting out a relieved sigh, Poe peeked down the hallway and leaned back into the guest room with a shrug toward you.

“POE DAMERON!”

The blood all but drained from his face as the shrill voice echoed across the otherwise-silent house. Han told Leia. Of course he did.

“I wish you had a middle name so I could use it!”

———-

Leia sat across from you, silvering hair done up in a braided bun. The last time you visited was a short, polite visit just before Poe left for flight school. He felt it was important to meet her, especially after the disappearing act he played when he suddenly fled to her home after receiving the orders. Now, he’d returned with his wife yet still felt like a child. Ears burning, he sipped cafe con leche and fantasized about a sinkhole opening up in the dining room to offer the sweet release of death. Dropping into an underground oblivion would be preferable to this conversation.

Han hadn’t wiped the look of entertainment off his face yet, and breakfast was nearly over. After noticing Leia give Poe a scrutinizing stare from the corner of her eye for the tenth time, he raised a brow to this ex-wife. “Give the kids a break. Remember all the crazy stuff we used to get into?”

“Please God, I don’t want to know,” Poe grumbled as he speared a sausage link aggressively with a fork. Hearing about the sexual exploits of his aunt and uncle would be nearly as bad as being walked in on with his pants down. He thanked his lucky stars you weren’t caught in a worse position, and that his body was mostly blocking yours.

“…Pilots.” Leia shot Han an exasperated face, then softened her eyes as she turned to you. She knew all about pilots and their penchant for thrill seeking between her own husband being a hospital airlifter and her sister-in-law Shara, Poe’s mother, flying supplies in the Air Force. “So. How has Japan been? Poe tells me you’ve been selling your pottery?”

“We’re trying,” Poe blurted. Your mouth fell open slightly at the interruption and the admission. Han and Leia exchanged a quick, surprised glance then turned back to you and Poe. Gripping his hand, you smiled awkwardly and diverted your eyes to your plate. He could tell that you were considering digging your heel sharply into the top of his foot, and braced himself for it. It wasn’t the plan to tell anyone.

“You’re trying?” Leia asked to clarify, squinting.

“Yeah… we’re trying to have a—“

Jumping from his seat, Han embraced Poe around the shoulders as he beamed.

“Oh! Well, in that case, get back in there,” Leia joked, leaning back in her chair as she spread some jam on a slice of toast. “There’s only a small ovulation window.”

Poe leaned over to you, shaking with laughter as your flushed face became buried in your hands as you tried to hide from your mortification. Breaking into an apologetic grin, he whispered, “I’m so sorry…”

Leia extended her hand across the table to yours with a small, knowing look. You accepted it, the large ring on her hand pressing against your fingers as she gave a supportive squeeze. Again, you sunk into the dining chair, mind frantically racing for anything else to talk about. You were an adult and this was a mature conversation, they were happy for you, but embarrassment permeated the entire interaction.

“So, Poe told me you guys are actually divorced?” you asked cautiously.

Winking, Han leaned forward, “Sometimes life gives you a second chance when you want something bad enough.”

You liked him, despite that first encounter. Han was the black sheep, the only one of Poe’s close family that hadn’t been in the service. Han had a nonchalance that was a stark contrast to the sophistication of Leia, but they shared the same biting wit and you could understand the compatibility.

“We’re working on it, don’t push your luck.” Rolling her eyes, Leia stood and began to collect the dishes of toast crust and hash browns littered across the table. Rising to your feet to assist her, you were grateful for the distraction.

———

Spinning a dry bay leaf between his pinched fingers, Poe breathed in the scent of cumin and garlic with a sigh. Ropa vieja was one of his favorite comfort foods, and no one made it quite like his aunt. He’d dragged you to every ‘hole in the wall’ restaurant in the old cigar-rolling district of Tampa searching for a version that came close, yet never did.

“Organa?” You pointed to the wooden sign that sat above the stove, letters carved with flourishes and stained a deep oak.

Poe sat back down at the table. “Remember how I told you my abuelita was a refugee after her husband was killed?”

You nodded. The family had a strong call to service in the wake of his grandfather’s political imprisonment and subsequent execution under Castro. It was the catalyst for both Kes and Leia to join the Air Force, then it was passed to the next generation when Poe decided to enlist.

Leia dunked a tea bag in her cup a couple times, explaining, “At the time, some idiot convinced my mom that Organa was too foreign sounding. Scared her into thinking she and her kids would always be seen as outcasts here, so she changed it to something that sounded more—“

“Wonder Bread?” Poe laughed as Leia shrugged in agreement. That was one way of putting it. Changing the family name never sat well with Leia, and she carved the plaque herself for her mother in shop class when she was in high school as a gift. After she passed, it found a home in her kitchen along with the traditional meals from the island her mother had taught her.

“Huh. What was his name, your abuelo?”

“Bail. Bail Organa.”

Reaching into a curio cabinet, Leia excavated a photo from the back. A young man with slicked back hair and warm eyes that seemed to glow with intelligence held a pouting toddler on his lap, carrying a regal air despite being in an ordinary living room in the picture.

“Awww. You?” You motioned to Leia and she nodded. “He looks so kind.”

“He was a good man, trying to do important things. Kes was too young to remember him, but I do a little. And I piece him together through our mother’s stories. I wish you could have met Kes. He was a good man, too.”

Studying Poe’s face, Leia sat in pensive quiet for a moment as he examined the photo. The geometry of his features and deep-set eyes sometimes made her swear she was looking at a younger version of her brother until he opened his mouth. Kes and Poe were so alike physically, with the exceptions of the curls and smaller build Poe inherited from Shara’s side of the family.

Poe felt like he was made of lead. He saw his father and himself in Bail, and realized that his own child wouldn’t have memory of either one of his parents. An entire set of grandparents, missing. He took a breath in and forced a smile, the corners of his mouth heavy with the weight of emotion. After so long, he was in this house, smelling this food, talking about family and the legacy he felt he could no longer fulfill. “Guapo, eh? We have good genes.”

“More than that,” Leia corrected, “good hearts.”

——

_Sliding across the floor in a pair of black-bottomed socks, Poe tore away from his cousin’s room and down the hallway with a squeal as soon as he heard the upbeat knock. Ben followed, each boy still holding onto the colorful plastic swords they were dueling with before the interruption._

_“My mom’s here!”_

_Shara dropped to a knee in the entryway, already changed out of her olive flight suit and into civilian clothes before she came to pick him up. He ducked into her arms, squeezing her with a series of small excited bounces._

_“Mom, Mom, Mom. Ben and I caught a bullfrog but Uncle Han said they don’t like living inside so we let him go. He was this big!” The boy’s bright smile was missing two teeth, perfectly square windows where his tongue poked through. Holding up his hands, he exaggerated the size of his catch to his impressed mother._

_“Wow, Poe!”_

_“We worked as a team, I’m a really fast runner but he’s better at guessing where the frog is gonna jump next.”_

_Shara warmly smiled at Ben, who stood with a mixture of bashfulness and pride on his pale face. “Well done. See? We each have our own strengths.”_

_“You were gone a long time. They should let you come home sooner ‘cause you missed him.”_

_Shara pushed curls out of Poe’s face and examined her son before dotting a kiss on the tip of his nose. He wasn’t hurt but he was serious. “I’m sorry. Flying is an important job and lots of people count on me. I don’t ever like to leave you but I have to.”_

_Leia stood in the kitchen, noticing her sister in law’s helmet hair and the lavender crescents under her eyes. She was relieved yet exhausted, a typical sight when she or Kes would return home. Shara mouthed a silent thank you to her and she nodded._

_Poe would be too excited to leave her alone, he was known to crawl into bed with either parent when the other was away on a mission. Shara could easily carry him back to his own room but she allowed it, finding comfort in his small fingers curled around his favorite orange blanket as she watched him dream._

_She hated sending him to school the morning after returning from a mission, even though he was used to dividing his time between home and his aunt and uncle’s house. Kes had been gone longer than usual this time, and although she knew her son was in good hands, Shara felt guilty for leaving Poe again._

_“When’s Dad coming home?”_

_”Soon buddy, we’ll all be together again soon.”_

———

Earlier in the day you had visited the cemetery, holding onto his arm as he took deep, centering breaths in front of the set of matching headstones. Poe was glad to have you there, but found himself missing his dad deeply. After lunch he slipped away, and after much searching you found him in the garage, poking through old boxes listening to Coltrane through his headphones. He hadn’t heard you calling and was surprised to look up and find you peering at him from behind a dusty shelf.

After playing cards with Han and Leia, you went to bed early, sleepy from jet lag and a stomach full of comfort food. Poe stayed up, exploring the storage area with a flashlight before Leia pulled him out. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, just that he was looking for something that belonged to Kes. Finding a collection of vintage binoculars in a forgotten box was a highlight, and Poe stuffed them into his suitcase before meeting Leia out back.

“It feels weird that I might not be a part of it anymore. It’s in my blood and feels wrong.”

Leia rested her hand on her nephew’s as they sat on the porch, watching the subtle blink of fireflies in the grass. Seeing Poe struggle with his identity in the wake of the accident twisted her stomach. He needed to remember who he was before it all was taken away through a cruel twist of fate. Being back in Georgia was helping, the familiar surrounding and comforting him. “Your service was worthwhile, and so are you- no matter what you’re able to do.”

“I go for my medical evaluation when we get back to Kadena. From there… I guess we are going back stateside, just not sure if I’ll be stationed somewhere here or discharged.” The crackled paint of the wooden porch rail sent Poe’s nerves bristling as he ran his finger along it. By his estimation, the frequency of the seizures was slowing, and he was hopeful that statistics would be on his side. You’d found out that after a brain injury like his, most people stopped having them completely at about the three month mark.

“And how are you feeling about it?”

“Terrified. Being on leave has been okay only because I was gone so long and we missed each other, and because it was so hard in the first weeks to focus. I was forgetting things, burned my hand on the stove, a real mess. Now it’s getting more manageable but I’m afraid of being useless. I just want to be cleared for work.”

“You have too much fire in you to ever be useless.” Leia’s pursed her lips, knowing that her nephew was sewn from a patchwork of work ethic, confidence and sheer determination. His injury had forced him to doubt each of those facets of his personality, but he wasn’t seeing the big picture. “Listen, few people are able to be heroes, and those who are can’t be heroes forever. Count yourself lucky you got a taste of that.”

“Flying just feels right. And I’m damn good at it.”

“I know that, Hot Shot. We’re so proud of you, Han and I- and I know your parents would be too.”

Poe looked down in introspection, the faintest smile playing upon his mouth.

Nodding in the direction of the guest room where you were sleeping, Leia continued, “And I think it’s wonderful you two are trying to get pregnant. I see the way you look at each other, that’s all you need.”

He got up, hand reaching for a set of beams above his head that still had a thin metal bar attached perpendicular. As a teenager, he used to do chin-ups from it, blasting White Stripes and replaying goals for the future in his head. Han was both impressed and somewhat unnerved by the tunnel-vision Poe had in his youth, stubbornly training until his arms would shake and his muscles would give, dropping him to the porch with a thud. Han would walk him inside and implore him to take a break, only to later find his nephew asleep while studying for the ASVAB. Hoisting himself up, he stared out at the yard as he started a set for old-time’s sake.

Flashes of light sprinkled across the grass, distinctive patterns like an insect Morse code. Memories of running through the blades with an empty mayonnaise jar to scoop them up brought into sharp focus the dream of having a child. Poe wanted that, the giggles and wonder of little hands clasping a new discovery, a small treasure in a glass jar with holes poked in the top.

“I’m crazy about her,” Poe let his mental thoughts spill out, shifting the topic as he rested after a set of chin-ups. Turning to Leia, Poe’s eyes shown with sincerity. The desire for to start a family was a different kind, a softer one. He didn’t feel like he had to force it into being, the way he used every bit of his grit when it came to the Air Force when he had something to prove. “I just hope I’m right about thinking I can be a good dad. Even if these things keep going, I think I can do it.”

“I have no doubt about your ability to be a good dad. You learned from the best, after all.”


	31. Handstands - NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe takes you camping while visiting his childhood home. He has _terrible_ impulse control, but he makes up for it with persistence (and in other areas).

“It’s like okay Ben, we get it. You listen to Joy Division and probably have a bunch of below the neck piercings.”

“So you two don’t really talk? He’s your only cousin.”

“Nah,” Poe answered as he rested his hand on a tree trunk, lifting himself over a fallen branch before he turned to help you navigate it, “I wasn’t edgy enough for him to hang with, and we just drifted apart.”

Digging through old boxes in his Aunt Leila’s garage, Poe found Kes’s camping gear and insisted on taking you to the little stream he loved. It was a short hike, but even in the shade of the woods the humidity was beginning to feel oppressive. He decided to bring along the tent and set up close to the water, knowing that he probably wouldn’t want to leave soon.

With a look of satisfaction, he gestured to a clearing where the dense woods broke for a stream. This place was special, the trees and boulders imprinted with memories of camping trips and hikes with his father. “And here we are- I told you we were close.”

Smooth boulders with scattered lichen lined the creek, jutting out seeming from nowhere, like a handful of marbles that were accidentally dropped. The water was crisp, the small bit of resistance from the rocks giving it just enough variation to babble softly. Ditching his bag on the ground, Poe stretched his arms overhead and peeled off his shirt. Boots off, socks a crumpled ball. Under this pants was a pair of swim shorts and he quickly rid himself of that layer before carefully stepping over a small dotting of rocks to submerge his feet in a few inches of tumbling water. Sighing, he looked overhead again and took in the peace of it.

“Get in with me,” he implored. A calm pool formed ahead, about 10 feet deep and without color, a crystal view of the rocks below. Without hesitation, Poe lowered himself in and dunked his head for some relief from the Southern heat. You stood watching for a moment, relishing the joy your husband got here, before you discarded your shoes and outer clothes to reveal the bathing suit that had been slightly chafing against your neck during the hike.

Your entire body thanked you when you submerged yourself in the pool, a fresh reprieve from the crunch and monotony of the woods surrounding it. Running hands over the boulders lining the water, you smiled at Poe. “It is something. Lovely.”

Treading water, he gave you a silent, knowing look before closing his eyes and tipping back. He’d been camping a lot with Kes, and finishing sections of the Appalachian Trail during spring break became a bit of a tradition when he was in high school through college. Yellowstone was beautiful, as was Tennessee, but nostalgia anchored him here. Home.

A harsh, territorial warble sounded out against the soft bubbling of water. Poe’s chestnut eyes sprang open, searching for the source before he noticed a faint grey flicker of motion against the branches just before the clearing. Gesturing for you to stay quiet, he swam across the pool toward you and pointed up.

“Check him out. Butcherbird.”

“A _butcher_ bird? You’re joking.”

“I swear. Shrikes are like the bird version of Vlad the Impaler. Catch their food and stab it against thorns to keep it still while they eat. Lizards, mice, smaller birds even.”

Gazing at the small bird in skepticism, you shook your head. Grey, unassuming, with a black swath of feathers on its face connected to its compact beak. “You are such a bullshitter.”

“I never bullshit about ornithology. Google it, this little guy is hardcore.”

Splashing water at Poe’s face, you mimicked him, “I never bullshit about ornithology. Babe, when you’re not talking planes, you’re talking out of your ass.”

Brows raised slightly in amusement, Poe took in a deep inhale before sinking down into the pristine water, opening his eyes to look for life under the surface. Nothing he could make out, not even minnows in this calm section. Life seemed to stay above the water’s tension here, clinging to rocks and branches and the crinkle of dried leaves underfoot. He stretched his feet up, guiding his palms down to brace against the stony bottom in a handstand.

Finally, he swam back up to the edge for a breath to find you were already out of the water, leaning against a large boulder that enjoyed the spotlight of a warming sunbeam. Lifting himself out, Poe gave you a blithe smile. Veins across his toned forearms, shorts clinging to his body, obsidian waves of hair tightening into curls from the water. Eyes meandering across his shoulders, the gleam of metal just under the dip of his clavicle caught the light.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“I was just thinking that I haven’t seen you take that necklace off. It’s like you’d be naked without it.”

“You’ve seen me naked so much, I bet you could draw me like one of those French girls from memory,” Poe winked.

“You know what I mean. It’s like it’s a part of you. First your mom’s ring and now St. Joseph.”

“It is,” Poe responded simply. “I was pretty pissed when I woke up and realized they yanked it off me in the hospital. It’s my luck.”

“I’m glad you’re not taking any chances.”

“Well, I do enjoy a good risk.” His hand roamed down into the bottom of your bikini and skimmed over the cleft of your body. Shuddering, you pulled Poe closer, his wet body pressed against you. “And I know that’s not the only thing that crossed your mind just now. Speaking of risk—“

The pad of his fingertip teased slowly, a circular rotation that started outside your body and slowly pressed upward as he felt more wetness welcome his digit inside. Clamping onto his shoulder for stability, your knees weakened as he penetrated you.

“We’re gonna get eaten by a bear, I know it.”

“Trust me,” Poe kissed your neck. “Besides, aren’t we supposed to take every opportunity now? Since we’re, you know, trying and all?”

As he spoke, his curved finger was joined by a second, ushering a throaty gasp. Poe nodded as a roguish smile lifted his mouth on one side, watching you rise up on the balls of your feet from the sensation. The next breath, you relaxed, dropping down around him.

“Any excuse,” you breathed out. Trying to conceive had become a bit of an ongoing joke, and even got you into a mortifying situation with Poe’s family the morning after you arrived. “You just have zero impulse control.”

He preferred to use his mouth instead of his hands, but he wasn’t unskilled with them. Feather-light taps against the nub. Three fingers caressing the hot, wet slit before probing deep. In the dappled light, Poe’s eyes were dark and focused as he reached within the walls of your body in minute strokes. Legs softened, you gripped onto his bare bicep as he played with you.

As he pulled your plush bottom lip between his teeth, his fingers slipped out of your bottoms and he clasped your hand to lead you. There was nothing close, just the stream, small pool of cool water and trees. He paused in front of a cluster of large, smooth boulders at the mouth of the stream, bathed in warm afternoon sunlight.

Poe’s hands ran up your sides as he eased himself down on one with a fairly flat top, an eyebrow quirked as he pulled you forward to straddle one of his thighs, clad in his wet swim trunks. “No one is out here,” he shrugged, reading the hesitation on your face. “I’ve been coming here since I was a kid and we never ran into anyone.”

“Babe, you haven’t been here in years. What if—“

A strong hand had made its way under your bikini top, pinching a nipple between two knuckles to send a jolt of arousal to the center of your body. Poe’s playful expression grew erotic as he bounced his thigh a little. “Here.”

“We can go back to the campsi—“

Pushing your top completely up over your breasts, Poe let out a small groan of contentment to see your bare nipples. Cupping your breasts, he squished them together and buried his face in your cleavage. You laughed until he sucked one of the hardened buds into his hot mouth, bucking your hips along his thigh in response. Desire in his deep voice, Poe insisted, “I want you right here.”

With pleading expression, Poe slowly undid the tie of your bathing suit top and it fell to the grass below as your clit rubbed against his leg. Warmth was returning to the area and you felt moisture grow as his tongue lapped at your sensitive breasts. Curious hands skimmed down the groove of your spine to the small of your back, leaving the hairs standing in their wake.

“I swear, you always get your way,” you muttered.

He pressed a wet kiss onto a nipple and smirked, “I’m nothing if not tenacious.”

Eyes dark as an endless well, he stared at you as expanses of soft skin undulated against the backdrop of the trees and water. Gripping your ass, he pushed down as your hip swerved over his thigh. Being outside gave Poe a rush; you had teased each other in public when you started dating but never had anything close to this kind of exposure. Faster, you rocked over his thigh, enjoying the friction under your clit through the fabric. Poe leaned back as your palm rested over the hard bulge in his trunks, closing his eyes with your touch.

Sliding off his leg, you crouched down and curled two fingers around his waistband. A moment went by where you simply took in the sight, like before. The shorts were wet and his hair looked longer, curls stretching down under the weight of the water and leaving droplets along his shoulders and chest. Gulping, he hooked his thumbs in and lifted off the rock to help you bring the clingy, wet fabric down around his ankles. He kicked them off and his eyelids lowered halfway in expectation as your hand wrapped firmly along the base of his penis.

This whole trip was about him. His childhood home, his family, his idea to go to the woods where he and his father would hike and camp. This place was filled with a bright nostalgia for Poe and that’s what he needed. He had a way of going down on you in a way that was tender and loving. You wanted to do the same.

Two, three slow pumps as you licked your lips, Poe watching intently. One eye closed and his brow shot up as his erection slipped into your mouth, a goofy expression that shouldn’t have turned you on but did. He was enjoying it so much already, he didn’t care about the way he looked. Sliding your tongue under it, you hummed so he could feel the vibrations of your voice. A hand reached for the back of your head, cradling it as hair slipped between his knuckles.

Exhilarating in its risk, on your knees at the creek, in only a small bikini bottom with your husband’s cock in your mouth wasn’t how you envisioned the afternoon going this morning. You briefly wondered if Poe had planned this, or at least thought about it before. Couldn’t put it past him. Cheeks hollow, you sucked him, slowly and deliberately to draw out his pleasure as he alternated between jerking and melting against you. A row of soft kisses along the underside, a swipe of your tongue against the ridge of the head as his breath hitched. Bracing a hand against the warm surface of the boulder, you relaxed your throat and took him deeper. The warmth and gentle pressure on the back of your head made you hotter as you bobbed up and down his length, cupping and massaging his balls with your free hand.

Watching his shaft disappear into your needy mouth sent him even closer to the edge, nearly over as your eyes flicked up and met his. The babble of the water wasn’t loud enough to drown out his unabashed moans as Poe tried to pull himself back. Bucking his hips into your mouth inadvertently, he came back to reality as you gagged a little and he slipped out of your mouth. Looking up, you laughed and wiped some saliva away, “Okay, maybe I got a little too ambitious.”

“Turns me on so much when you look at me.”

“Yeah?” Your tongue formed a spiral around the soft head again. The fact that he liked to watch hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Tell me why.”

“Your eyes, just… I can’t explain it. You’re like looking _into_ me.”

“It’s intimate.”

“Maybe scary is a better term,” Poe teased, pushing a clump of wet hair off his forehead.

“I thought you weren’t scared of anything.”

“I’m only scared of my wife.”

“Smart man.”

Extending his hands, he pulled you from your knees and yanked your soaked bottoms down. Adrenaline and dopamine heightened the ravenous hunger for you. Whether he would admit it for not, he was a thrill seeker. A pair of fingers ran between the puffy lips as you gasped. Poe stood, resting his hands on your hips to switch places and guide you onto the boulder where he was. Scooting back, you watched him through low, dark lashes and parted your legs. He could smell you now, sweet with arousal that hit him like a punch to the stomach.

“You alright?” you asked quietly, a leg bent and foot resting on the rock.

“Yeah, I’m right here,” he answered as he climbed over you, assuring he wasn’t fading into that hazy space between consciousness and temporary darkness. Guiding himself into the space between your thighs, Poe paused before he entered, kissing along your neck. Whispering your name as he sunk into the hot wetness that had been aching for him, he couldn’t believe this was happening.

Intense in sensation, your eyes closed as you allowed your body to get used to his size, inch by inch. Patient, he stroked your hair awaiting a small nod or squeeze of permission.

Deep swivels of his hips began as Poe took his time finding your pleasure. Sloppy kisses planted along his collarbone, neck, earlobe as you accepted his penetrating shaft, the stinging taste of sweat on your bottom lip. He listened to the irregular release of breath from your lungs, to the mewls and clipped gasps, but he wanted to make you moan with abandon.

Dragging fingertips across your perky nipples, he rocked into your tight pussy as you sighed in delight. The sound only encouraged him, and in response he hoisted a leg up around his waist. The angle helped him brush against your clit as he thrusted snug against you, and you nodded breathlessly for more. Poe swiped at the soft lining of your lip as he drew out, pausing for a moment as your vision locked. So close it was nearly abstract, his face hovered just across from yours. Sucking in his exhale, you gripped his arms, thumbs running over the swell of muscle there as you waited, still.

“Eres mi todo.” _You’re_ _my_ _everything_.

“Eres mi todo,” you repeated back. This phrase meant more to him than anything else; although it came before the exchange of ‘I love you’ in the relationship, it was just as powerful and complete. Radical in its entirety. Everything.

Deeper in, a swift movement ripped a salacious moan from your mouth, just what Poe had been working toward. Again, again, again. Every inch of skin contact mattered as your smooth calves ran up and down the backs of Poe’s thighs, making him tense and shudder with the tickle. A rapid fire series of thrusts that skimmed over your g-spot sent your mind high and fuzzy.

“Don’t stop—“

“Not yet,” he muttered out. The chemistry between you had always been intuitive, and Poe knew how to manipulate the balance between stimulation and deprivation to send you into a whimpering mess. He engulfed your senses, riding that line between bliss and overkill as he filled you in a steady beat.

Poe was stunning in his masculinity. Hard chest, intense espresso eyes, a jawline sharper than the edge of the pocketknife in his bag. Firm hands caressed your thighs and ass as he pinned you to the unyielding rock. A gush of wetness warmed your entire pelvis, and he vocalized again in appreciation.

Climbing higher, sounds and vision began to wash out. White. Noses rubbed together, hands lost in each other’s hair, you clenched around his hard shaft. Noises of wet skin and shaky breath mingled with the ambient sound of the woods as your chests pressed together in magnetic desperation. The rock under you was still uncomfortable but it was only on the periphery of your awareness.

In a slower tempo, Poe pulled out almost completely, the slight curve of his cock pressing against you in a mostly-unfamiliar way. Eyes forced shut, forcing everything else out. Warm, wide hands gripped your thighs as he thrust into your tight void. Between the danger and the physical sensation, this was all too delicious. The muscles in his ass tensed under your leg, he was getting close, too. Together you chased the release, moving in unison. As he pushed in, your hips rolled slightly to maximize contact as he changed the pace one more time, athletic but not rushed. Poe loved it, and it skimmed your clit just enough to let both of his hands knead your body. As you jerked back on a fistful of damp hair, his stubble-dusted throat was beautifully exposed, Adam’s apple vibrating against your lips.

_Come_. Clouding all rational thought.

_For_. Fading away from the rest of the world.

_Me_. Moaning, squeezing as he released.

Both hands firmly on your hips, his pulsing shaft as deep as he could penetrate. You could feel a surge of moisture within, your husband’s voice slightly higher pitched as he emptied the last of his come for you. Stilling his movements, his forehead pressed against yours as your fingertips slid down the nape of his neck down the double groove of his spine.

The dripping down your inner thigh made you shudder, suddenly aware of the newfound space between your bodies as he pulled out. Poe pushed you back onto the boulder when he realized it was dripping. “Oh, shit.”

“I can’t be on this rock anymore. It hurts.”

“Wanna do a handstand?”

“I’m not doing a handstand,” you scoffed, but he was already throwing you over a shoulder. Reaching his arms around your waist firmly, he twisted you around as you giggled. Throwing your hands overhead, you braced palms against the ground as he lowered you down, inverted. Your mind was in enough of a haze before you were upside down with extra blood rushing toward it.

“We’re not wasting a drop.”

“This is the stupidest thing...”

“You said I was smart earlier,” Poe snickered, arms hugging around your legs as you wobbled. “Maybe you shouldn’t reproduce with someone who thinks this is a good idea. Or with a guy who thinks it’s safe to screw in bear-infested woods.”

“You’re right. Put me down!”

“You’ve been really mean to me today, so I hope it’s twins. No, triplets. You deserve that.” He helped ease you back upright, kissing you sweetly before a mocking punch was swung at his arm. “ _Owwww!_ Triplet boys just as thick-skulled as me! Imagine dealing with four of us?”

“Stop talking,” you laughed, retrieving your bathing suit from the ground, “you’re making me regret this.”

Arms wrapped around you, Poe pressed his lips against your temple and cheekbone as you quietly enjoyed the sound of the chirping from the layer of branches above, and the murmur of water around. A glow illuminated his cheeks, not just from the exertion. Being here made him feel whole in a way he hasn’t anticipated, connected to past and future in a tangible way. Poe’s hands cupped the back of your neck as he kissed you again, deeper this time but with a tenderness. Pulling back, he glanced down at your nude body before gesturing slightly toward the creek. 

“Another dip to cool down after that?”


	32. Origami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe is still anxious about returning to work, and gets a revelation.

Plummeting. His ears popped from the sudden drop in altitude as he reached for the control panel, colors and shapes blurred as if looking through Vaseline-smeared eyes. Hands foreign and slow, as if they were a pair of dull gloves and not part of his own body. Another dream snapped him out of sleep, violent and terrifying. Pulse wild, he sat up against the headboard and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d been naive to think they’d stop so soon.

Watching the shadows of a branch outside the window as they swayed, Poe tried to ground himself. He was home, in Okinawa with you. Safe. He felt the texture of your hair softly as you slept, listened to the whistle of breath through B.B.’s wet nose as he lay curled against Poe’s leg. Even if he denied having post-traumatic stress disorder after the concussion, he still found himself utilizing the therapist’s suggestions. 

He thought about how people always wake before they die in dreams, and an article he read that explained the phenomenon. The mind didn’t have any frame of reference for what death felt like or what happened after, supposedly. He didn’t buy that, because he didn’t always jerk wake before the moment of death.

In the nightmare, his F-16 was obliterated as it hit the water, and him along with it. His body was ripped into an infinite number of shards like a champagne flute thrown at a brick wall. Cold. Helpless. Poe was haunted by the image of your face, mouth open and eyes wide as you tried to catch him just before impact. There was no background, no environment this time. Just darkness, the flashing lights of the cockpit and the expression of fear in your eyes before connecting with the water’s unyielding surface. It didn’t make sense, but nightmares were scrambled and illogical like that.

“It’s… so early,” you yawned, scooting closer to rest your head on his bare chest as he settled back into bed. Poe’s breath sounded hollow and strange under your ear. “You okay?”

Lacing your fingers in his, you waited for a reply. Poe’s thoughts folded in on themselves and changed shape, complicated origami. He murmured a small, unconvincing yes.

“Hey. I’ll be with you today. It’ll be alright.”

You expected Poe to be anxious leading up to his medical re-evaluation so he could return to work. He stayed up late, absentmindedly strumming at guitar strings into the faint hours of the night. You weren’t sure when he finally made it to bed, and how much rest he’d actually gotten.

Kissing the top of your head, he watched the fan spin overhead, blades blurred in movement like his dark thoughts. It was unspoken. He was having nightmares still, and you knew it. Poe didn’t want to talk about it, and every time you forced it he only withdrew. Brutal in its imagery, so close to being true. That thought didn’t need to be embedded into your mind, he thought. It was probably just his nervousness making things worse. 

———

“I wanted you to know,” Cassian spoke, “the investigation showed a technical failure was responsible for the compressor stall.”

Poe’s throat dried as the gravelly voice traveled across the world to his phone. Vindication. He curled himself tighter on the sofa, and stayed quiet as his friend and former Commander continued.

“You were within guidelines, just like you said. And I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“Cass, I—“ Poe stopped to swallow. The 44th Squadron was still in Yemen, and he still harbored guilt about not being there alongside them. “I made a mistake too. And if I hadn’t hesitated to fire, that asshole in the MiG-29 wouldn’t have pursued me. He wouldn’t have had a chance to.”

“Maybe. We just don’t know that for sure, but we do know there was a problem with the system. So, on the record, you’re not at fault. You’re the most skilled aerobatic pilot I’ve ever seen and you belong in a cockpit. Bodhi and I told them that.”

He didn’t expect to get this emotional. His voice wavered as he thanked Cassian. It was where he belonged, now if there was only a way he could get back to piloting. He missed the challenge, the rush, the view from above the clouds when the horizon stretched out with no landmarks like a metaphor for eternity.

———

Dread filled his chest as he stepped into the neurologist’s office. Fidgeting in the waiting room, Poe stood up from his chair for the fifth time to browse through a stack of dated magazines and sat back down empty-handed. Your hand covered his, head resting on his shoulder as he waited.

“Captain Dameron?”

They always referred to him by rank here, but he had the feeling they weren’t supposed to. It felt almost patronizing to be addressed this way then get into a thin gown, feeling vulnerable and powerless. Metal retaining the warmth his warmth olive skin, Poe handed his St. Joseph necklace and wedding band off with a kiss. You slipped the ring onto the chain and pulled it over you head as you waited. Another EEG. Another MRI. Diffusion tensor imaging sequencing. All surreal yet routine at this point.

They couldn’t see if he’d had a seizure recently, the brain had to be observed in real time to positively identify one. That fact baffled Poe, who thought there had to have been the technology for that by now. You implored him to be honest with his doctor about how often he faded out, but he usually stayed quiet during the visits. It felt wrong to speak for him, but you wanted to make sure they had all the information. Today’s visit was to see if there was still visible damage after the concussions.

Still as a corpse. It was only about 45 minutes once he was actually in the tube but it felt like longer because he couldn’t move. Sometimes the tech would tell him not to even breathe. Poe listened to the clanking and tried to daydream. Today he imagined a spaceship, escaping everything together for some kind of galactic adventure. He smiled, remembering how scared you were of flight and wondered if you’d be more or less trusting of planes if he was the one in the pilot’s seat. That is, if his brain was behaving.

Poe didn’t want to think about the what-if’s or the could’ve-been’s. Like a ball of plasma, his thoughts arced and buzzed while he was having the MRI, unable to do anything else but think. Claustrophobia made it worse but he wouldn’t admit it. Memories came in and out, interspersed with what he wanted for the future. New ones sprung up since the visit to Georgia, and he found himself drawn to the imagery there again.

Poe thought of Kes showing him how to clip baseball cards to his bicycle spokes in the summertime, of his windowsill lined with small treasures like rocks, bird feathers and cicada shells collected on walks with Shara. He wanted to experience those things with you, and let himself entertain the idea of parenting through an idyllic lens. Whirling and banging again, the machine sucked him back out of his thoughts.

“Okay, you’re all set.”

———

Scraping some red curry paste from a small jar, you leaned over the stove and inhaled deeply. After the doctor visits you usually let Poe choose what to eat but this time you just started something while he took B.B. for a walk.

Things were still difficult with him being out of the cockpit, and it was obvious that trying to conceive has become his latest pet project. Not that you minded all the attention your husband lavished on you, but you wondered how long he could focus on it before driving himself mad. No pressure. Right. Poe didn’t really do ‘no pressure’ when it came to goals, and he wanted to start a family already.

Seeing him with Leia and Han during your trip brought it all back into focus and you could see how he longed for that belonging again. The injury had shifted his sense of self, though he still saw himself as a pilot- one that had just been redirected temporarily. As if he was only grounded due to adverse weather and not rogue electrical signals in his mind.

Familiar sounds of a tinkering ID tag and the tangerine leash catching on the hook by the door reached your ears as you stirred shrimp and vegetables into the pan.

“Smells good,” Poe remarked as he reached into the cabinet for B.B.’s box of treats. “Did I tell you Cassian called?”

“When? Did you talk?”

Kneeling down, he offered a treat to B.B. and rubbed the dog’s belly. “Yeah, early morning after you fell back asleep. It was good to hear his voice. He says the plan is to phase out within the next couple months as things are starting to cool off there.”

“Thank goodness. They’ve been gone so long, and I worry about them. Poor Jyn, waiting for him to come home. She’s strong but I know it tears her up.”

“Cass also told me the investigation is complete.”

Turning, you held up a spoon dripping with pink-tinted coconut milk and looked at him expectantly. It was standard to investigate everything after an incident like the one Poe had experienced in Yemen, to ensure the pilot hadn’t been negligent or reckless. The guilt he carried had been palpable, and on more than one occasion you held him as he expressed his regret at not firing on the hostiles right away. He imagined how much worse it would have been if it was Cass or Bodhi who was injured due to his hesitation instead, but that didn’t serve anyone.

“Equipment failure. There was a problem with the compressor, he said it wasn’t my fault.”

Closing the gap between you, both hands slid up his chest as you gazed into his face. “You’re the best. Of course it wasn’t your fault. I always knew it wasn’t.”

Resting his head on your shoulder, Poe let out a sigh and squeezed you tight. “Yeah. But it doesn’t make it better. It doesn’t fix me.”

“Stop talking about yourself like you’re broken. And it matters, now no one can doubt your skill- not even you. What you did, landing like that…” you took a deep breath, “I’d be a widow if you weren’t the very best.”

“Amor, you know I hate it when you say that.”

“We both know it’s true. And maybe I get a little bit of a kick out of being with the best pilot in the service.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Poe pulled back. “Just the service and not the world?”

“One minute you don’t want to be complimented, the next you want me to stroke your ego,” you laughed, reaching up to tousle the waves of his onyx hair, “Make up your mind.”

Finishing up lunch, you brought plates of jasmine rice and curry to the table while Poe searched the bookcase for some music. He eventually picked out Neil Young, dropped the needle and took a seat. Visibly lighter, you realized it helped him to know he wasn’t found of any wrongdoing in the incident at the Port of Midi.

“Hey, I’m gonna head to the studio and try to work on that handle that’s been stumping me.” You’d been dying to get some time to work on ceramics since taking a week off to visit Poe’s family. “Wanna come to the city with me?”

Poe nodded as he swallowed a mouthful of curry. “Nah, that’s cool. I’ll find something here to keep myself occupied.”

———

Sitting on the couch with his legs crossed, ankle resting over his knee, Poe chewed the inside of his cheek raw. Voice calm, he looked at you with the face of someone wronged but who has detached themselves from the pain associated with that slight. The strap of your purse slipped from your fingers, sending it to the floor with a dull clamor. There wasn’t an explanation to this that he would like.

“What am I looking at?”

On the coffee table was a white and blue box, next to a sheet of paper folded lengthwise three times. It felt like someone ripped your aorta free, sending it flailing like a rogue fire hose inside your chest.

“Babe. I…” you began.

“What the fuck am I looking at here?” Poe broke your gaze, resting his eyes on B.B. lying next to him. The terrier hadn’t left his side much since he returned, and the feeling of stiff fur was soothing under Poe’s hand.

“Just hear me out,” you stammered, slipping your shoes off by the doorway. As you moved toward him, he kept his face downcast. He couldn’t let you see how much it hurt. “I ne—“

“One of two things is happening. I don’t like either option.” Embers of pain burned in his eyes. The words hissed through his teeth at a high volume as he rose to his feet, gesturing by counting with a single finger. “One: You’ve been using this and letting me believe we’re trying for a baby.”

Silence. Poe held up a second finger, and inhaled sharply to gain the strength to speak his point. He never thought he’d accuse you of something like this, a mess of benign words ugly in this particular arrangement. “Two: This is something you used when I was deployed.”

Voice cracking on the last word, he looked away and rested the fingers on his bottom lip. The logic was solid, you were on birth control when he left and he knew when the IUD was removed.

“How can you even say that to me?”

Your husband stood, wounded. “So you lied. You don’t want a kid.”

“I didn’t take it.”

Poe scoffed. “It’s. Empty.”

Only one dose came in a box, a single pill. You didn’t want Poe to find the package when he took out the trash, so you hid it in the back of the bathroom cabinet before forgetting that it was still in your home. Closing the gap between your bodies, you outstretched your hands to take his but he didn’t move.

“I started to. I almost took it then I threw it out.”

“You almost took it?” Disbelief was etched on his face, visible in the deep creases across his brow.

“Almost, but I didn’t. Even if I did take it, it would just throw my ovulation off. That’s it.”

“You _almost_ did.”

“And you almost kissed your ex,” you hissed. 

Sharply, he turned away, furious that you brought up an issue that had been resolved more than 6 months earlier.

“Yeah, doesn’t feel good to be punished for something you almost did but had the good sense to stop. Right?” you continued.

Poe’s jaw clenched, teeth squeaking and grinding under his anger. Pushing past you, he reached for his keys on the table before you could say anything more. Before you could regret it. He was fuming, ripping the door open. Flinching as he let it slam behind him, you stood in the living room bewildered by the entire conversation.

Gingerly, you reached for the paper on the coffee table and unfolded it. You recognized your own handwriting, long strokes of cursive. Poe kept all the letters you wrote him during his temporary duty in Yemen in a big Manila folder.

_A silly dream, you know? But when I woke up, the idea stuck with me. (Not you coming home to me pregnant because obviously you’d be the father and I’m definitely not pregnant now.)_

_I guess what I’m trying to say is that yes. I want that too. Being apart has brought some things into perspective, and I don’t want to wait for the perfect time because it might never come. But it’ll be perfect, anyway._

Tears formed in double rivers down your cheeks. You knew how much this meant to Poe. He knew how ambivalent you’d been about starting a family, the fear of living through another loss stopping you from taking the next step. He’d been so happy after this letter reached him at the Al Anad base, the smile audible in his voice the next time he checked in.

Absorbed in memory and regret, a minute passed before you realized exactly what he was doing, why he had taken his keys before he left. He wasn’t going for a walk or jog to clear his mind. A gasp slipped from your mouth as you ran to the strip of parking spots at the backside of the apartments. Bare feet slapped the pavement as you called out.

“Stop! Poe, listen to me.”

Poe’s helmet was by the door, on a high shelf above the jackets hanging in the closet, along with the matching one he bought when you first started dating. He hadn’t bothered to get it, and you couldn’t tell if that’s because he was trying to make a point with a show of apparently self-destructive dramatics or if he actually planned on going through with it.

Like a scorpion, the Ducati was shiny black and chrome with subtle orange accents. Yanked off, the faded cover it had been hibernating under for the better part of a year was on the ground. Was he really mad enough to speed away on the motorcycle, knowing you were terrified of him having a seizure behind the wheel of the car with the minimal protection of a seat belt and airbag?

“Don’t do this!”

Straddling the seat, he ignored you either out of choice or because he couldn’t hear your voice as you ran toward him. He turned the engine over and the bike came to life with a throaty growl that sent your every blood cell in every vein into a free-fall, draining from your face in fear.

“Scream at me, break things, whatever! Just don’t do _this!”_


	33. Flight. Fight. Freeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning your secret, Poe leaves, providing you both space for some much-needed reflection on your relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is introspective and “slower” but it primes us for the next one- the **_final_** chapter.

_“She’s perfect,” Kes insisted. “Windscreen is original. Gearbox is solid. Look at those curves… This bike is pure sex.”_

_Poe cracked his knuckles and looked at Kes, who was beaming. His father didn’t speak, instead he silently folded his arms across his chest as he stared at his prize in disbelief. In front of them sat a battered motorcycle, paint scuffed, body dented. Various parts of the front wheel had oxidized during its time unloved, and a crack ran through the headlight like a vein in fine marble._

_“If you think rust is sexy, maybe.”_

_Laughing, Kes turned to his son. His late wife’s eyes sometimes seemed to look out through Poe when he was skeptical, and he saw them now. Their son was becoming a man, the softness of childhood giving way to squared shoulders and a rich voice. It didn’t waver or crack anymore, and Kes noticed his son’s upper lip was growing dark with stubble again. In less than two years, Poe would enlist in the Air Force and be at the mercy of wherever they decided to station him._

_“You’re kidding. This is a 750 Super Sport, my dream ride. She needs plenty of love and commitment, but it’ll be worth it. You’ll see.”_

_Over the years, they’d traveled to the auction in search of a rare find like this many times, loading up the front seat of Kes’s pickup with snacks and cranking up the volume of Iggy Pop classics as they left Valdosta. It was unexpected they would actually find anything good, much less a ‘74 Ducati uncovered in a barn in the middle of nowhere. Kes paid too much for it in his enthusiasm, but he hit the jackpot and it was definitely coming home with them._

_“You know, I’m not sure if your mom would’ve approved. But she would’ve liked the fact that we have a project to work on this summer.”_

_“So, you’ll let me ride it when it’s ready?” Poe asked hopefully._

_Eyeing the vintage motorcycle, he threw an arm over his son’s shoulder. Kes was always affectionate. “Tell you what. Help me with this restoration without complaint and I’ll even let you pick the paint color.”_

_“Black. And let’s do an orange pinstripe here,” Poe gestured, “right down the middle.”_

_“Alright then. A young man who knows what he wants. I respect that.” Kes smiled, knowing that once his son made a decision, he didn’t back away._

———

Collapsing onto the couch, you stared at the Plan B box on the coffee table, next to the letter you wrote Poe while he was deployed. Neatly folded, he always took great care in storing the physical letters safely. The Manila envelope he kept it in was still on the dresser of the bedroom you shared. Regret.

Poe’s letters to you were in a beautiful emerald box, painted like exotic malachite on the bookcase. Dragging your feet across the floor, you made your way to the bookcase and poised your hand above the spines. Only a small portion of your personal library had come with you to Okinawa, but your favorites were there. Plath. Irving. Cohen. Your heart dropped again when your fingertip brushed the book Poe had given you in Venice as a wedding gift.

Selected Poems 1956-1968 by Leonard Cohen, first edition.

A crucial part of the soundtrack of your relationship, “Suzanne” was the first song you ever heard Poe sing. It was so lovely you encouraged him to start doing open mic nights again, and he found joy in performing as you cheered him on from the audience with Finn and Rey. He’d written songs for you, and sung many over the years to you either in person or over Skype while he was away, but Suzanne was special. Memories came sweeping back, Poe strumming the guitar now propped against the living room wall, singing the folk song. A little melancholy yet hopeful, it was fitting for your dynamic.

_And you want to travel with him, and you want to travel blind_  
And you think you maybe you’ll trust him  
For he’s touched your perfect body with his mind

Breathing in deeply, you held the box in your hand like a precious jewel, but ultimately decided not to open it yet. Not yet. Reading his words, his lame jokes and dreams of coming home to start a family wouldn’t be possible now, through the watery mess of your eyes. You didn’t even realize you were still crying.

Poe had left, pushing past you, impulsive in his anger. There was no way of knowing when he’d be back. He had every right to be upset, your betrayal cut him to the bone. Lying to each other was never your strong suit, and he knew that you’d taken at least one dose behind his back.

You tried to convince him otherwise, but it was true. Just once, after the time he kissed the scar just left of the birthmark on your abdomen. It was a sweet moment, you held Poe after sex, telling him you wanted to fill all the broken pieces of him, to mend him with gold like the traditional Kintsugi pottery Baze told you about. Your husband felt broken and worthless, and you wanted to tell him that he wasn’t ruined. He was beautiful and valuable. He was still your everything.

Then he kissed your scar, the painful reminder of loss. Poe had always kissed you there, on his ‘favorite’ birth mark and told you that you deserved the same. His voice was soft, eyelids heavy and drooping from exertion. And he wanted to make you feel whole, knowing how much it hurt you. Even after all this time.

It was clear in those hickory eyes and the press of his full lips against the faint scar on your skin. In that moment, the whirl of panic throbbed in your ears. He wanted to try again, but you weren’t sure you were ready to relive that pain. This was primal self-preservation: flight, fight or freeze.

One pill. It was surprisingly small between your fingers, this potent thing. You weren’t pregnant, you just didn’t want to be. Or maybe you did, but just not so soon. You weren’t sure what you wanted- that was the problem. He’d never know, or so you thought, and it was only meant to buy you time to get your thoughts straightened. Freezing time made simple, courtesy of Pfizer.

Everyone gets cold feet at some point. Poe even had them for a brief time right after his check ride at the end of flight school, terrified the evaluator had doomed him to a lesser role. Fears unfounded, he later found out he scored the highest marks in the class and in the program overall for the last few years, but he wanted to back out of everything for a while. To run, that flight he loved so much.

If he couldn’t be the best, he didn’t want to see it through to the end, he told himself- but it wasn’t really true. That wasn’t who he was, wasn’t the man Kes and Shara Dameron raised him to become. Poe saw things through, always followed the path he started. So he didn’t submit to his instinct for flight, he fought for his place in the world with his head held high. He fought for your relationship to work, for his love to span the lonely miles.

Cold feet felt different for you. It wasn’t a fear of failure like it was for your husband. It was a fear of grief, of a pain you were intimate with. One you had to endure mostly alone while Poe was states away, the rigorous demands of his dream keeping you apart like it always seemed to do. Losing her destroyed him just as it destroyed you, but he was able to keep slightly more composed for your sake as you cried over the Skype window so far away. It wasn’t in you to run, your body instead opted to freeze. To stop the ticking of the clock so that more pain couldn’t be inflicted.  

All Poe wanted at this point was a family. He couldn’t fly, he hadn’t received medical clearance to go back to work yet. If he couldn’t have the career he’d spent his life dreaming of, then he could have the family he’d been dreaming of since you met. The visit to see his Aunt Leia and Uncle Han in his hometown of Valdosta just solidified that desire. He wanted to be a dad, traumatic brain injury be damned.

Elated that your ambivalence had shifted into enthusiasm, Poe had been all affection and mischief once it was official that you were trying to conceive. And you thought that was what you wanted. Part of you wanted it, absolutely. Another part splintered off, driven by self-preservation.

Loss. Not just loss of another baby like the little girl who didn’t make it to where she needed to be, ripping open your body as she grew. The ectopic pregnancy still weighed heavy on you and Poe, knowing the intensity of grief and the possibility of fertility issues.

Another loss. Loss of the self, all over again. Just as you earned your Master’s, Poe was given orders to report to Kadena, and your life was transplanted into Okinawa swiftly. No lab work, no friends or family. Just Poe, who you clung to like a life raft in the first weeks as your identity fell away.

Housewife.

Someone you never expected to be, something Poe never asked of you. He didn’t have to ask, you offered him yourself. Trusted him. Trusted that you’d make it out of the other side together stronger. But as fiercely as you loved him, you wondered if you would both make it to the other shore still intact.

“Jyn,” you choked into the phone, “please come. I fucked up real bad.”

———

Crossing the wrap back over his wrist, Poe wound fabric over his knuckles three times like he was reciting Hail Marys. The ritual of this alone was soothing, he had to admit. Clenching his fist, he tested the spacing between fingers for a moment before lifting himself off the bench and making his way to the punching bag.

Tentative jabs at first, he tested the waters. It felt good, endorphins already starting to flow through his body as he warmed up. Hooking, Poe knocked the thick bag to the side before coming in with a cross on the opposite end to correct its swing. Again. Jab, cross, hook. Cross, jab, uppercut. His chest heaved from the exertion and he started to feel the tension in his shoulders drop.

Poe wouldn’t call the nightmares he’d been plagued with visions, because they were more memory and fear than premonition. In his dreams, the jet twisted in a downward trajectory over Yemen, obliterating on contact with the water below. In them, so was his body, cast into pieces sinking into the Red Sea. Nothing left to recover and send home to you in a flag-draped casket like the one each of his parents ended up in. But these dreams were the mark of PTSD and not of clairvoyance. And PTSD can drive a man to do strange things in times of stress, however unrelated to the onset of the condition.

Poe wasn’t an erratic person. Impassioned, yes. One to court risk, yes. But unpredictable, no. He was a man who loved fiercely, throwing himself into what mattered because life was worth experiencing in vivid color. Shara taught him that lesson, somehow imparting that wisdom before her son was even a decade old, and it was something Poe truly believed. The only time he’d done anything quite like this was as soon as he received his orders for Undergraduate Pilot Training, back in Tampa.

Snapping his ankle upward, he caught the shifter and the bike eased into gear along a curve of road leading Northbound, all the way to Georgia. Every mile, two things burned like charcoal briquettes in the pocket of Poe’s worn, camel-colored jacket: the solitaire he’d been carrying for a month and the UPT acceptance letter that meant he’d be away for a year.

That night years ago, he didn’t warn you he was leaving, and once he thought to call so much time had passed that he was afraid to hear the anger in your voice. Secrets were a big deal to Poe, he took stretching the emotional distance between you seriously because he knew there was about to be a physical distance.

When he finally reached Valdosta, he spent the night in his Aunt Leia’s guest room- the same guest room he’d spent so much time in during his father’s deployments. Where you took an ovulation test because the Plan B administered before the trip had thrown your ability to read your body’s signals. Where you felt guilty for betraying him and decided to try to conceive in earnest, no more lies. Where Poe interlaced his fingers in yours as he filled you with pleasure and hopes for an idyllic future. Where your eyes closed in a double wish as you fluttered down from your orgasm: health for your husband, strength for you. Strength to be brave enough to try this whole pregnancy thing, despite the pain of loss and the fact that parenthood itself would be like base-jumping toward the unknown.

Leia convinced him to call you, mostly pulling you from your anxiety with the assurance that the asphalt wasn’t streaked with blood to match those red racing stripes on his helmet. Anger welled up, a rage that he would allow you to experience that unknowing. The waiting, the inquires to every ER in the area looking for an answer to his safety after disappearing. Poe’s voice was strained through the lump in his throat as he spoke to you from the cemetery where his parents rested.

Another sharp blow to the punching bag sent a thud through the mostly-empty gym space as Poe tried to wretch his mind away from painful memories. He appreciated the solitude and hoped you would give him the space he needed right now. It still hurt, being deceived by the person he loved the most, the only person he could ever imagine having a child with while being truly happy. Still swinging on its chain, Poe sent the bag into the opposite motion with another strong jab as the muscles in his shoulders and arms began to burn. Memories flickered in his mind like an old nickelodeon, little clips of time suspended in a loop that always seemed to return to where it started.

_I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m here. I’m sorry._

Tight hands balled the fabric of his unwashed shirt as he pulled you close in the garage when he returned to Tampa from Valdosta, the words repeating as he tried to reassure you that he wouldn’t leave again. As soon as you saw him, you knew you’d marry him if he were ever to ask, because at that moment there was no more separation between Poe and your future. Trying to imagine a future without him was like trying to imagine a sense not yet conjured up by evolution, impossible.

Poe never intended to break the promise he made that night, as you ran your fingers through his curls, damp and smashed from extended entrapment within his helmet. He promised to never run away again, to never make you unaware of his whereabouts if he could help it. Then again, he never could have guessed that you’d cut him to the bone by lying about trying to start a family- much less that you’d continue to lie after being caught red handed.

Finally, he wiped beads of sweat from his brow with the back of his tan forearm before unwinding the wrap from his wrists and knuckles. Stretched out on the bench for a break, he tried to not relieve the events of earlier, the realization that you wanted separate things. When he fished his phone from the locker, he found no messages, no calls, and it was a relief. Time was all he needed, time and something to get his blood pumping. A little boxing had accomplished that, and although he wasn’t ready to talk just yet, he was willing to take a chance on going home.

Gathering his belongings, Poe searched for his helmet before remembering that he’d forgotten it in his anger. Nevermind, home was just on the other side of the base.

Unlike in his dreams, the F-16 hadn’t been reduced to scraps of metal that day almost three months prior. But today, the vintage Ducati 750 was. It wasn’t a vision. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a reality.

Glossy black, orange pinstripes ran down the center of the tank. The bike itself was a memory of his father Kes, of spending one of the last summers of his youth together in the humidity of the garage with grease-stained hands. Now it lay in chunks across the asphalt, waves of heat lifting skyward under it. Crushed, distorted upon impact. Broken like his dreams. 


	34. Ejector Seat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will you and Poe have a chance to reconcile your conflicting desires after his accident?

History was repeating itself, a distorted and scrambled nightmare that collected elements from daily life and darkest fears. This was all too familiar, the hand-wringing and anxiety echoed the time, not long ago, when Poe and Cassian went silent as reports of a downed F-16 and confirmed air-to-air kill filled news segments. You counted yourself lucky after learning your husband wasn’t among the casualties of war. But luck is a finite resource and a new widow is made everyday.

As she entered the apartment, Jyn’s mouth curved downward in a frown. Scanning the living room, she noticed the small white and blue package of Plan B still on the coffee table next to the shining malachite box of Poe’s deployment letters. Jyn had insisted you use email but something about handwriting on paper appealed to the romantic in Poe. He wanted you to have something physical, to hear his voice in the stroke of a ballpoint pen and in the underlining of key words while he was in Yemen. She knew that when it came to trying to conceive, you oscillated between fear and hope, and Jyn immediately understood the context of the fight.

“Hey lil’ buddy,” Jyn cooed, kneeling down to pet B.B. Her hands ran along the stiff white fur of his back and she plopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“It’s me… I did this.”

“No, Poe chose to get on that bike. He chose to ignore medical advice, even as you were running after him. He’s an adult but right now he’s acting like a child threatening to run away from home.”

He always dealt with emotions kinetically. A long run, an aimless ride on the bike, an especially heated fuck; these weren’t so much distractions as they were a vehicle for him to work it out. They were the release valve to his frustrations, and you always respected that need. Sure, Poe also was known to play guitar softly and crawl to your side of the bed, practically engulfing you as the big spoon while whispering his concerns into your neck- but he needed to calm his body with introspection before that outward communication could come.

Guilt broke loudly from your throat, louder than you intended as you defended him, “I did this. I lied and let him believe I was ready. I deceived him…”

Jyn’s honey-colored eyes squinted in recollection, “You believed that, too. You really hoped it would happen after that IUD was taken out. And you told me that again after you got back from visiting his family.” Putting her feet up on the ottoman, she continued, “Look. It’s fine to change your mind. This is a big deal.”

“How is this going to work, with us wanting different things? Poe’s heart is set on this, he talks about it every day. I’m just not sure.”

“Honestly, I think he’s just fixated on it now because he’s been out of work,” Jyn responded. One thing you could always count on was her perspective, practical and steady. She had a no-nonsense way of pulling you out of the anxiety closing around your temples like a vice. “Give it some time. Work on you, parenthood can wait. He needs to understand that you’re not ready yet.”

Passing to the kitchen, you grabbed two bottles of Ramune from the refrigerator before curling up in the armchair opposite your friend. B.B. nosed his way into your lap, circling himself in a tight donut over your thighs. Jyn cracked the seal on her drink, sending a marble plinking down into the reservoir in the neck. She rattled it absentmindedly as you both settled in thought for a few moments, wondering what she would do if it was her and Cassian at odds about something so significant.

“Poe’s always been so confident that anything he wants can ultimately work out in his favor. The man’s an optimist of the worst kind,” you snorted.

“—but you lost a part of yourself when you came here. He’s had experiences that you haven’t. I know, it’s a different kind of sacrifice for you to start a family. But does he know that?”

Hard to say, you thought to yourself as you took a sip of the melon-flavored soda. The two of you shared an intimacy, a closeness that spanned across the miles, but he wasn’t a mind reader. And, to his credit, you had been sending conflicting messages that he probably interpreted as an invitation to sway your mind toward what he thought would bring you the most happiness. That was the thing- in his mind, it was no sacrifice; Poe believed this was simply the best thing that could happen to you both. And maybe it was, but you couldn’t. Not yet, even if his musings about patching up little skinned knees and hanging up macaroni masterpieces made your heart swell.

Jyn stuck around for a while, not doing much but grounding you with her presence, but that was more than enough. Her hands grazed the surface of your ceramic projects on the shelf, admiring the kintsugi gift that Baze and Chirruit gave you, slim fingers tracing over the golden cracks of the vase. A new hobby, friendship, the first months of married life- Jyn gently reminded you some beautiful things came out of Okinawa, but you only responded with a meek smile.

Contemplating her earlier, off-handed remark about a child threatening to run away, you watched her drop the needle on the record player and the apartment filled with the smoky voice of Stevie Nicks. If you were honest with yourself, you’d admit that sometimes you dreamed of running away as well, Kadena being more prison than paradise for your soul despite the dizzying beauty of Japan overall. It wasn’t that you wanted to be away from Poe, it was that you wanted to feel like yourself, more than an extension of him.

—————-

Doleful hazelnut eyes expressed apology, yet he couldn’t decipher the meaning in yours. Poe wondered how angry you still were, knowing his own anger was temporarily diverted. Moving closer, you drew in a gasp as you passed through doorway of the hospital room. Poe’s left leg was stabilized at the hip and knee, his left arm in a mesh sling. Bruises marked that side of his face as well, and more lay under the rough texture of the hospital gown, sinister dark purple fingers reaching across his hip and ribs.

“Babe–”   Gingerly threading fingers into his hair, you paused to look over his face before leaning across the hospital bed to kiss him. Sweet and tender, you finally felt relief as lips met, grazing the clear nasal canula. You weren’t about to berate him for that infuriating impulsiveness, seeing his current state.

Getting the truth about the extent of the damage would be an exercise in futility, given that Poe was stubborn about injuries. That was what got him into that mechanical hospital bed in the first place. Knowing this, you had already spoken to the head nurse before finding his room. Fracture to the illiac crest, broken bones including clavicle and multiple ribs, partially collapsed lung. Painful, but nothing life-threatening.

“How did you manage to avoid another concussion? You weren’t even wearing a helmet.”

“I wear a little luck around my neck,” he answered, stretching upward to press against the hand gently raking through his curls, comforted by the fact that you were actually touching him and not screaming. “Apparently I was thrown in such a way, my cranium landed in all the soft stuff along the shoulder of the road. St. Joe came through for me again.”

His nurse had made it clear just how much luck was involved in his accident. Although it happened too fast for Poe to quite comprehend, witnesses described it to the paramedics dispatched and it was in his chart. A small truck ran a stop sign as he was finishing crossing the intersection after leaving the gym on base, sending the back end of the Ducati out and Poe flying into a ditch. It was the force of his own body hitting the ground that caused his injuries and not impact against the Toyota itself. The epilepsy didn’t seem to be a factor in avoiding it.

Since he wasn’t particularly religious, the gold medal around your husband’s neck was bought as more of a symbol than an actual appeal to a saint. But given that Poe had escaped death twice over with odds stacked against him, you briefly reexamined the concept of what it meant to be a guardian to pilots- a group of people who maddeningly pursued that rush of adrenaline. Poe would be charming enough to convince a saint to intervene on his behalf even if he was at fault, though. 

Sliding your legs onto the bed against his less-injured side, you carefully avoided the IV in the crook of his elbow and softly wrapped an arm around him. Inhaling deeply in gratitude, you were hit with the sharp aroma of bleached linens and disinfectant more than the warm amber your husband carried with him, but his scent was still faintly there. Leaning against the raised head of the bed, you examined Poe’s face and found it etched with exhaustion. 

“So, I fractured my pelvis.” Poe ventured with some caution, “Funny. I always thought that would come from us having some wild sex, but this was a lot less enjoyable.”

A small laugh escaped your mouth, dry but genuine. Of course he would make that joke. And knowing him, it was also likely he asked the doctor when he’d be cleared for duty in that sense as soon as he found out about the fracture. A smirk spread across his lips. “I’ll be out of commission a while, far as this baby-making business is concerned… Your uterus is safe for now.”

Humor was his way through awkwardness and even though he knew the subject was sore, Poe decided to go there. As soon as your eyes lowered away from his, he regretted it. Silence thickened the atmosphere of the small, clinical room.

“Miramé…” he pleaded. _Look at me._ His hand moved to squeeze yours but you flinched away from his touch and stood next to the bed. A vast chasm formed between you. Brows knit, he kicked himself for being so stupid as to talk about this now.

Something inside you froze over. Jyn’s words conjured an image that hadn’t dislodged from your thoughts. Running away. Not out of anger but out of self preservation, fleeing out of instinct. “I don’t want to be pregnant, not yet. Maybe not ever.”

“We’ll figure that out later. We don’t have to talk about this now. We shouldn’t talk about this now.”

“We want different things and I’m… I need to take a step back.”

Poe’s mouth quivered slightly; although he knew it was true, hearing it was still brutal. “Yeah, okay… we’ve been through a lot lately. And we can get through this. Like those pots of yours, the broken ones filled in with the gold? You said they were stronger and more beautiful for it. We have our problems like any couple but we’ll come out stronger on the other side.”

Grounding, you offered him a sanctuary and comfort. Just as he needed sustenance, he needed to hear the sound of your laughter bubbling up after throwing a playful quip your way. To feel the sensation of your breath across his skin when he rolled over in bed. To taste the tartness of lime in your Corona kiss on date night. To inhale the soft scent of your hair as he fell into your arms after landing. To witness the astounding depth in your eyes when making love. Each of Poe’s senses existed only as ways to experience you.

“I can’t do this. I don’t know who I am, it’s all you. I’ve sacrificed it all for your dream, moved across the world. Hell, I haven’t even been able to use my degree. And if I become a mother now it’s going to obliterate what’s left of my identity,” you choked out through tears. “I can’t be here anymore.”

Poe knew how it felt to question the core of who he was. He never asked you to drop your ambitions, they were one of the factors that caused him to fall for you in the first place. Circumstances of his service caused that, and you both were along for the ride when he was assigned to the 44th Fighter Squadron. Bewildered, he tried to focus on his breath and not the darkness wrapping around his heart. Despite the Fentanyl, it hurt. The wound from the procedure to restore the correct pressure to his lung was aching, smashed ribs groaning with each shift and inhalation as he struggled to comprehend the last sentence you spoke.

“Wait… Are you leaving me?”

“I’m… I can’t stay in Okinawa. I know that. Being in Georgia together just brought it into focus- It’s time for my dreams and I can’t ask you to deny yours.”

“No. _You’re_ my dream,” he countered, incredulous that this conversation was even happening. “I’m not going to be stationed here forever. Just wait. Wait a little longer.”

Spiraling, Poe was caught in a flat spin all over again, one that wouldn’t end no matter how hard he cranked the yoke. The landscape in his mind made no sense and he felt fear again, fear that gripped him and clouded his thoughts enough to blur this event with the last time he felt truly scared.

Salty waves or saline in the IV?

Jagged mountain peaks and the generic hospital room art?

Wailing of alarms across the control pad of the cockpit or the beep of the O2 monitor?

Warped with emotion, your voice snapped him back to the present moment, like his head snapping against the clear canopy of the F-16. “I can’t. I’m not ready for this but I don’t want to keep denying you something that matters so much. It’s not fair to you, not after what you’ve lost. We can’t just keep waiting for each other forever.”

“You’re the reason I kept going after losing my wings. Now I’m losing you too. Do you even hear yourself?!” Poe shouted, jerking in the hospital bed so hard that it sent a shock wave of pain up his left hip so strong that he winced. Your words shook every atom in his body, visceral and potent.

Resolve became brittle as you looked into Poe’s eyes, rich brown like the soil of his childhood home. How could you possibly do this to him, this man who adored you? What the fuck kind of selfish monster were you, to cut his lifeline after promising him so much, all of yourself? Swollen with the pressure of being torn apart, every beat of your heart felt like an assault on your ears. Each beat a hammer, a scream as you tried to gather the strength for what had to be done next.

Moving with conviction, you brushed against his nose with your own for a moment, eyes welded shut as you guided your mouths together. At first Poe retreated but as he looked into your face, he was hit with a grave realization: you believed this could be your last kiss. He had to stop that from being true.

Chaste, morose. It began that way on your part. Then Poe pressed into you with a fire born of desperation and you melted into him. Savoring his taste, you slid a hand up his neck, cupping his face. A face whose beautiful topography was so familiar, you could probably carve a decent likeness out of clay blindfolded, simply through the memories of your fingertips. Sadness and regret permeated his lips, saying what his voice couldn’t express. What needed to be processed within the body. Words weren’t enough. Emotions couldn’t be reduced to mere syntax. Touch was a powerful medium of communication between you, bridging that gap between what must be heard and what must be felt.

Fighting for the very survival of your marriage, Poe felt tears begin to finally push through the corners of his eyes as his lips massaged your own. Eventually, all fights must come to an end. As you pulled away from his neck, he squeezed your fingers, two rings pressing hard against the skin. His mother’s band, a symbol that you were his family now. The solitaire, a symbol that you would be loved by him, always. Molten metal would’ve been less painful than the two thin gold loops against your trembling skin.

“If I don’t do this, I’m going to end up resenting you. And Poe, I love you far too much to ever allow that.” You tried to explain, looking into his eyes. Two twin abyss, they were darker than you had ever seen before. Not when he held you after the surgery, not after he returned from Yemen minus one set of wings. Dark, more painful than if Poe had been pulverized under the truck with an unanswered cry for help through that collapsed lung. It seeped deeply into the core of his body, as if the Fentanyl had suddenly stopped working.

“I can’t fucking believe this. You’re not even gonna fight for us?”

You breathed out, turning away sharply as your feet carried you toward the hallway, voice faint. “This _is_ me fighting.”

You could undo this. Bury your face in Poe’s chest, apologizing through sobs. Blame the entire event on unstable hormones and the strange mix of fear, relief and regret. Beg forgiveness and find a way to reconcile the conflict within. Yet, you didn’t undo it- you didn’t even turn around, body shuffling forward like a clumsy zombie in a Romero movie when your mind only wanted to touch him.

Maybe if Poe could walk, he’d stop you, a strong hand spinning you around by the shoulder. Maybe he’d lay a passionate kiss into you, reminding you that you both felt things deeply and that was no reason to walk away. Maybe be would, but he couldn’t. Poe lay immobilized by both shock and by the physical restraints on his bruised body.

“No it isn’t.” Poe knew war now, albeit from the sky. He knew what it felt like to fight, and he didn’t see that in you. Fear was visible, but not fight. You were fleeing. “You’re just gonna abandon me like your parents abandoned you. Just walk away from our love, from our marriage. Walk away like they walked away from you. Go on, walk.”

With the precision of scalpel, his words sliced through you. Poe watched as your posture changed, the muscles along the spine stiffening and he wondered where that even came from. He was angered and blindsided. The remark was uncharacteristically bitter yet it was suddenly on his tongue before he had the chance to reconsider.

Breath hitching, you paused knowing you deserved his wrath, and contemplated turning. Poe watched your shoulders lift in tension at the conjuring of old ghosts from your past. Your husband knew the kind of reaction that could elicit, but instead you brought your hands to your nose, breathing into the triangular space within your palm as you lingered just outside the doorway.

“Stop. Corazón… Please.”

Poe’s voice was soft now, desperation replacing bitterness almost immediately as he made his way through stages of grief, anger, bargaining, sadness. He was grieving for you already, and you hadn’t even left the hospital yet. His words echoed your own, screamed as you sprinted across the parking lot behind the apartment as he straddled that motorcycle. If he had only listened, he wouldn’t be in this situation.

A lung collapsed like a deflated balloon after a New Year’s party.

A shattered ‘74 Ducati on the asphalt.

A broken heart to match his battered body.

A marriage falling to pieces.

Searching for the words to make you understand, he tried to convince you that it was salvageable. That there was no pressure, and that he never meant to create any. Poe wondered if there was a way to tell you that although he wanted a child, you were the family he needed. And it came to him, passing through his strained throat with conviction as he practically yelled it.

“You’re my everything! Still. Forever.”

There it was. Although you knew it was coming, you still weren’t prepared to hear it. Hot tears burned your cheeks, flowing like a cut artery as your soul grew impossibly heavy within your body. Drawing in a trembling breath, you struggled to remain standing. It was already in motion, and he’d have to wait. If he meant forever, he could wait. There wasn’t a choice- at this point, both fight and flight were one in the same for you.

Poe’s familiar smell of leather and amber still lingered as you walked down the hall and rounded the corner through blurred eyes, disappearing from his view. Running away, although every mile between you and Poe was like a twisting dagger.

Oxygen felt like it was being siphoned out of his body, between his straining heart and straining lung. You’d pulled the ejector seat on him, and he realized too late that he was descending without a parachute.

The pain burned like a solar flare, but Poe clung to the last piece of optimism he could possibly muster. Strangely enough, it took the form of his uncle’s words the morning you both awoke in Valdosta, after he’d caught you in a humiliatingly compromised position. Poe was taken aback by the surprise, not only of someone walking in on an intimate moment but by who walked in- Leia’s ex husband, with whom she hadn’t lived with in years. Slightly gruff with an audible smirk, Han’s explanation rang in Poe’s mind clearly.

_Sometimes if you want something bad enough, life gives you a second chance._

Poe Dameron lie in a hospital bed in Okinawa, tipping his head back as the weight of the day pulverized him. A broken man, an Icarus who crashed to Earth after getting too comfortable among the clouds, but a man who believed in second chances. If there was a way to win you back, he pledged to do so. That tenacious nature of his would be channeled into this mission, his first mission since the one that left him spinning in a fighter jet 4,680 nautical miles from you, because nothing else mattered. You were everything.

You were _his_ everything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!
> 
> Poe and Corazón’s story continues in the sequel Governed By The Stars.


End file.
